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It's always been my belief that nothing in life can match the feeling of a crowd feeding off the same vibe, everyone in unison, the collective senses feeding off the same sights, sounds, smells. Very few places can give you that feeling.

After last week’s fruitless sojourn south the prospect of a trip to Holker Street warmed my cockles. Although I’d deemed it the start of ‘big coat’ season, the sunshine that greeted me when parking up at Asda persuaded me to leave my hat and gloves behind. Save them for December or you won’t feel the benefit. Into the fanzone and talk centred on that morning’s Ashes capitulation, mixed with the reaction to the team sheet coming in. Talk of false dawns, quality levels, was it

I can’t say I subscribed to it, as I boarded the train at Roose in the pitch black of pre-dawn Barra. In fact, I was full of bonhomie and optimism. Second best unbeaten run in England, some great resilience, evidence of Barrow mentality, Walsall a fantastic example. Glass firmly half full.

After last game's debacle with the shorts, I've sought Mrs P's advice early. 'Big jacket' is the guidance. Sage advice, although it is an unusually warm November afternoon at Holker Street. The twin forces of the low sun and the scoreboard aurora are providing enough lux to knock the SAD clean out of Morrissey, so sunnies are donned in an attempt to get some focus on the action.