Stephen Browne looks back over the six days of golf's Spanish inquisition and dares to think of what might yet be.

Delighted, relieved, exhausted; it's been a bit of a roller-coster over the six rounds of the European Tour School final qualifying, and it wasn't without incident. It started on the first day when I strolled up to the 11th and proceeded to knock it out of bounds with - of all things - a rescue club.

You can imagine the expletives. The key, though, is to move on and not dwell on bad shots. If you do, you're dead. I managed a great up and down for a double bogey. I finished the round on one over and it was a pretty good start, as I felt relaxed about my game and the surroundings.

That also had something to do with the company. Australian Wayne "Radar" Riley was a superb playing partner - I played with him for the first two days - and although his form deserted him during the second round he did come up with a memorable line.

After one particular tee-shot, he turned and exclaimed: "Jesus Christ mate, now I know why I gave this game up."

I had my own nightmare on the final hole on the Old course at San Roque. I knocked my tee-shot into the water on the left, hit a fantastic three-wood that pitched beside the pin but ran through the back of the green. I chipped beautifully to about six feet - and then four-putted (I tried to ram the first couple of putts in taking out the break but ended up missing from six, six and three feet) for a quadruple bogey eight. I was one over standing on that hole and ended up shooting a 77.

It felt like I had been punched in the stomach. There was that empty feeling as I watched my dream recede.

But the next day I was fine. I put the setback aside and told myself I could do something about the next four rounds but nothing about what had gone before.

I was fortunate in two respects: I had my old caddie, Brian O'Connor (he's from my club Hermitage, and a former Boys international and scratch golfer), and I played the next two rounds with Philip Walton, who was a great help. Brian knows my game well and he helped to reinforce the decisions I was making and I don't think we got a club wrong all week.

In the fourth round Philip's presence was very reassuring. On the 11th, I faced a 40-foot putt across the slope: with about three feet left I heard Philip say, "get in there". It did.

Philip didn't know I'd heard him. It was a lovely gesture from a man who was himself trying to regain his tour card and I'm delighted to say he did.

The new course at San Roque is very tight, and Philip and I played well for 73s. I was under pressure over the last three holes to make the cut but made it with a shot to spare. That round moved me up 40 places.

In the last two rounds I shot 70, 70, four-under-par, and the third best 36 hole aggregate over that stretch. It made me very proud, because over the Old course at San Roque that's the equivalent of shooting a couple of 65s.

I started the final round on the 10th, and when I birdied 13 and 17 I had played myself under the mark and a card was now mine to lose. The front nine is marginally tougher, but I ground out the round shot by shot.

I'm going to go to Mexico on Sunday to play two of the three tournaments on the Challenge Tour there. I probably won't get a start on the full European Tour until next year, and I suppose I could expect to play around 20 tournaments.

For now, though, I'm off to celebrate and maybe dream a little about what lies ahead.