Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Northern Ireland.
As I write, I am sitting at Great Victoria Street railway station in Belfast waiting for my Portrush-bound train to get its arse into gear. I am able to share my thoughts with you courtesy of NI Railways' free WiFi service; a shining example of the Ulster Unionist Party delivering in government. (Sorry, old habits die hard).
The essential purpose of my weekend trip is to see my family and some sport. Tomorrow afternoon I aim to skilfully combine the two by watching the mighty Coleraine FC play Glentoran whilst listening to my father say f*** a lot.
I travelled from the airport to the station by bus. At one point it looked like it may be by taxi, until the power-dressed lady beside me on the plane decided that I had no place in her chariot despite her having initially semi-offered. I hope she spills her Pinot Grigio on her big pants later in the day.
Tomorrow morning will be a huge highlight for me when I return to "The Big Sand" for the first time in 22 years to watch the Coleraine Inst rugby 1st XV take the field. The last time I was proudly wearing the jersey myself.
Before all of this, it's lunch at The Clyde Bar in Coleraine with my dad before the opening sortee of the weekend across the road to The Railway Arms, my spiritual home.
It'll probably be awful, but please don't be worrying about me.
