Halycon days and Plastic Blues Another day, another hangover and the customary London cold (read man-flu!) probably caused by sleeping in too many different beds and drinking out of too many wet glasses.

Last night I was in Essex catching up with some good mates, trying to convince them that this summer's big stag event should be my side of the Atlantic and not theirs. Copius amounts of lager was drunk, which fuelled a good debate - think Vegas is looking good! - and this was followed by a curry in this new foo-foo place. It really wasn't our bag, nor the other drunk people in there at midnight and I don't expect it will be there next time I go back.

One of my mates was berating me last night for not updating What was the score? for a few days, so DG this is for you.

I'm now sat on an Inter City train (do they still call them that?) and it reminds me of halycon Saturday's of the past travelling to away destinations.

Of course 3pm Saturday kick-off's are not the norm these days, more likely a 1.30 Sunday lunchtime and with £48 tickets, with none or little concessions and live on Sky to boot it is no wonder we moan about our away support.

As mentioned last week I will be at the Bridge tomorrow courtesy of a mate and his bosses new found love affair with one of the best club's in the world. Of course he didn't fancy a Sunday lunchtime game against little Charlton, but luckily my mate knew someone that would.

Talking of Chelsea fans, I was talking to someone yesterday who proclaimed to be one. I asked him who he had supported before Chelsea and without a moment's hesitation he said Arsenal!

Well the £48 will stay in my pocket tomorrow, thanks to a plastic blue, but if we get a result I will gladly depart with that money in a local public house afterwards, even a Russian one.

Come on you reds!  ¶ 12:33