I had no intention of going up to Walsall on Saturday, largely due to one or two things going off on Death Row in Stanwell. I actually felt a sense of relief when I made the decision and had set the alarm in order to wake up in time for Danny Baker on 5 Live, something I was really looking forward to.
The thing is, I woke up three hours before the alarm went off, had a quick look on here, saw that thread about all the rubbish vehicles used for away days, checked on sufc.co.uk and read that tickets were available on the turnstiles, and so felt the urge.
Within an hour I had booked a £12 return on the Megabus and thirty minutes later was on my way.
As it turned out, I had a brilliant day because for me there is nothing like watching United away from home. On the train to the Bescot I had some fellow Blades rip the piss out of me for liking Prog Rock and another one accuse me of writing a letter to The Star. Added to that, there was an Oxfordshire Blade who said it was a pleasure to meet me.
As for the game itself, I thoroughly enjoyed it; this possibly means I'm easily pleased but precisely zero fucks are given over that. I thought it was an entertaining game in which we may have rode our luck at times, but I felt that we at least showed a bit of character, effort and determination, something sadly lacking all too often this season.
I was also entertained by the crowd; the caustic terrace humour is forever present on an away day. "I don't know what they do to the enemy but by god, they frighten me," said the Duke of Wellington about his men prior to the Battle of Waterloo, something I always think of as I look around the Blades following on the away end - even the old men look hard.
Perhaps my favourite bit though was after the ref had turned us down for yet another penalty and the West Mids Constabulary stationed themselves in front of us for all of five seconds before wandering off again. I suggested they should hang around for the next bad decision from the ref as it was surely not far away. One of the plod turned round and said, "He is a shit referee, this one; you should be 2-1 up by now." We then discussed the ref's failings further before I suggested he search out his car in the car-park and write him out a ticket.
The ultimate condemnation - the local coppers thought the ref was crap.
Ahem, anyway, I am so glad I went not least because for once a great day out was not ruined by 90 minutes of football. Even better, when I got home neither my record collection or home cinema system had been lifted by my retreating ex-flatmate.
It's just as a measure of things the fact that I nearly didn't go is a sign that I'm losing interest a bit.