I first started watching Huddersfield Town as a fairly puny 13-year-old.

I was really a Liverpool fan in those days and jumped at the chance of watching Liverpool Reserves play Town’s young hopefuls at Leeds Road.

Although Liverpool won at a canter, 5-1, what I remember most is being threatened with a thumping by a couple of fellow Fartown High School lads who were aware of my Liverpool leanings.

Since then I have followed Town all over the country.

On one occasion, a few years ago, I even gently cajoled my then girlfriend out of bed at 2.30am, on Valentine’s Day, and persuaded her to hop on a train for nine hours to Torquay, the English Riviera.

I know how to treat a girl!

Fortunately we won 1-0 but she never came again.

And it wasn’t just the early hours she didn’t care for.

Imagine travelling back from Colchester on a coach with a load of beered-up young men – and a failed air conditioning system...