Yes, there's no place like home

I HATE to admit it but, yes, I was choked by the Scotland Homecoming video. I donít know whether it was Chris Hoy with his Olympic gold medals, or Sam Torrance on a windswept golf course beneath a brooding Scottish sky.
Or maybe it was the treacle tones of old Sean against the backdrop of Edinburgh Castle, declaring his love for the auld country.
But a little tear welled up, as a parade of Scottish celebs sang a line from that stirring Caledonia masterpiece.
It was a kind of epiphany moment for me, when I finally realised I might be needing therapy.
You see, from where I'm sitting, basking in the afternoon Spanish sunshine, home should be the very last thing on my mind.
Who in their right mind would want to go back to the snow, to the black afternoons and freezing nights?
So I must be needing treatment, if I've been seduced by a cheesy video.
I really wanted to write a column that took the whole concept of the Homecoming apart. I wanted to tell Alex Salmond that we're far too clever to buy into this tartan-clad nonsense, spending a fortune on promoting a rousing call to the scattered Scottish diaspora across the world.