January 30 - in which Huddersfield fans get lost on the way to Cockfosters

It's the Fourth Round of the FA Cup today, a time for an unfancied Northern team in the lower divisions to come down to London to play one of the city's big sides. This year, it's Huddersfield Town, who are off to Arsenal, with the traditional following of several thousand fans dressed in the team colours and big scarves, some with cardboard cut-outs of the FA Cup covered in tinfoil, singing songs dedicated to players no-one but them has ever heard of, players whose talents barely grace League Division 2, let alone the Premier League. You can tell the fans of a team that doesn't come down to London much. They stand around on tube stations looking at the map of the Underground as if it is an ancient Egyptian scroll in obscure hieroglyph, and making comments about how funny it is "none of the Cockneys smile or even look at each other, they need to cheer up a bit". Which of course makes us scowl even more.

I run into a bunch of them after work, as they are on their way home after the game. I'm a bit more kindly disposed to them than normal because they've given Arsenal a run for their money and been cheated out of a draw by a soft late penalty. As usual they look hopelessly lost. They are trying to get back to Cockfosters, where they were dropped off this morning by their coach tour. They are about to get on not only the wrong train, on the wrong line, but one travelling in the wrong direction. It's the work of a moment to put them on the right train, in the right direction, but the work of several minutes to explain what I've done, which line they're now on, and how many stops they need to go. Luckily it's the last station on the line, so they should be OK. This is how I end up travelling with a bunch of West Yorkshire football fans, swapping songs, and generally taking the mickey out of the Arsenal supporters on the train. I've had worse journeys.