Back To England.

That's right I am back in England for one week. As such you will not being gaining any deep insight into the subtle nuances of Korean culture from this entry and you will instead have to make do with a riveting account of how I got home.

I'm guessing you think I flew home. You'd be right, so well guessed. I leapt on a bus from Daegu to Seoul first and spent a delightful 5 hours watching Korean comedy shows on the coach television. Korean comedy is a joke. It is also the same joke over and over again and the down side is, that the joke wasn't funny the first time.

Think less satire and more "Knock knock, who's there?" The answer to which is "A Korean actor with a terrible joke".

You might think I am being a sneering, condescending bigot, and once again you would be right. But I could turn even the most culturally sensitive of you into an arrogant, patronising scum bag if I could only get you alone for 5 hours with a television and a DVD of Korean comedy.

I arrived at Incheon airport unable to laugh anymore. I have not laughed since and it was three days ago. This morning I regained the ability to smile but my recovery is going to be a long and arduous journey.

I needed a drink. Not a problem I hear you say, afterall you are in a huge international airport. Well this time your assumption would be wrong. Seoul's, Incheon airport is a disgrace to all aviation. It has two bars in the entire, vast expanse of glass and marble. One of those was nothing more than a Guiness stand that sold pints of Guiness for £11 each or to my American friends about $150 give or take a penny.

The other "sports bar" was closed by 9pm. How? How is this possible? There was a however a prayer room open. Great. So you have catered for those who wish to go and have some spiritual fulfillment, but you cannot even provide my kind with one open venue to have a spirit with a mixer fulfillment?

I was livid. Perhaps a strongly worded letter would show them that this discrimination against British people was simply not acceptable in 2011. I had two hours to fill and the only entertainment available was praying to a deity I don't believe in or watching Korean workers close down their shops for the night at a stupidly early time.

I decided to write my letter and went to an internet point that was remarkably still open. But when I went to use the computer, guess what? The instructions were in Korean. The nerve of these people never ceases to amaze me. I slammed my crisp British passport against the counter in fury and looked around for someone to remonstrate with.

I don't mind you people using that ridiculous language in your own time, but if you are not going to provide alcohol for less than the price it costs to vaccinate an entire third world village against river blindness then you better at least have your computers set to English so people can construct outraged letters of complaint.

Instead I sulked for two hours and then made my way on board the plane.

I was travelling home to be the best man at a wedding. I believe this title to be quite literal when I have been given the role and I decided to use my 16 hours of flight time to work on some outstanding jokes. The Emirates flight crew kept me well fed with the following meals...

Scrambled Eggs and some excuse for a sausage.
Chinese Chicken and noodles.
Omlette with potatoes.
Chicken and Egg sandwich.

Those were the four meals I ate. Did Mr Emirate get some special buy one get one free deal on Chickens and their eggs? I like eggs and I like chicken. In fact in Korea I normally eat both quite regularly. Perhaps too regularly. But even by my chicken and egg dominated standards, that selection of meals seemed very egg heavy with a pretty large nod to Chicken too.

I had a few beers, but eyed the first one with suspicion. Just to make sure the air hostess had not slipped in a hot wing or a hard boiled egg when I wasn't looking. I also watched the film 127 hours about a man who falls down a ravine, gets his arm trapped by a boulder and then cuts his own arm off with a pen knife after spending 127 hours (coincidentally) drinking his own urine and crying.

I liked it a lot and if it hadn't been for my harrowing, humour sapping bus journey, I have no doubt I would have been roaring with laughter.

Eventually the plane began its descent to Manchester, England. My home. And it was during our descent that the captain dropped a proverbial bombshell about the weather in our destination, news so unexpected that I could barely believe it to be true...

"Ladies and Gentlemen we are making our descent to Manchester, where the local time is 12.30pm. The weather is 4 degrees celcius, overcast and cloudy with light rain."

Yeah right, I'm not falling for that one.

So here I am. A week with no teaching, no Soju and no old people looking at me as if I am a 19th Century Circus Sideshow attraction. It feels surreal and yet a welcome respite. I will fly back on Saturday to arrive in Seoul on my birthday. Little Spoon, Rude Boy Yatesy and Chocolate Orange are all running a half marathon that day, and will be there to offer me a sweaty greeting upon my return.

I'm enjoying the home cooked meals and fully flavoured beer, but part of me is excited about the flight on Saturday. Chicken and Eggs with a small side of Eggs and Chicken please.