ON SATURDAY 14 December, my team won 3-2 at Birmingham City, despite having gone behind twice. This took us many points clear at the top of the Championship and there was felt to be an aura of invincibility around us. I started to think promotion might be a straightforward affair. Good job I didn’t know then that we wouldn’t register another win until 1 February; it would certainly have ruined my Christmas.

As it happens, I got the glad news of that win as I landed in Sydney on a Sunday morning. Typical, I thought: I watch us win not once in six weeks and they only stop the rot when I’m on the other side of the world. Discombobulated by 11 hours of jet lag and the unfamiliar sensation of victory, I went for a wander to a shopping mall to buy all the things I’d forgotten to pack. This is generally what I tend to do on arrival anywhere. As I walked, I got a text from a friend saying her dad, who sits behind me at West Brom, would be fed up about missing the game as he was in Australia.