I AM 57. I hold down not one, but two responsible jobs. Most people, I hope, would regard me as sane and rational.

But I have developed a psychological condition, almost entirely of my own making, and from which there is no known cure. It's called Blackburn Rovers' syndrome.

It means that when I go and watch a game and we lose, I really feel it in my guts. Try as I might to tell myself last Saturday that it was only 22 (very well paid) young men kicking a ball around, and that very few of them had any other connection with Blackburn (or Bolton), I simply could not shake off an intense feeling of despair -- as if it had been me on the field, that somehow it might have been mine, or the town's fault.

And, coming away from the game, as I observed the skip in the stride of Bolton fans, compared with the dejected trudge of Rovers' supporters, it was clear to me that the majority of the home gate there last Saturday suffer in equal measure along with me from this affliction.

So be it. I have also passed on this condition to my two children, who show even more pronounced symptoms. When they were younger, and Rovers were going through a bad patch, I told them that suffering defeat was "character building". But that doesn't wash now either.

And they also remember that in my political life I endured 18 continuous years of opposition --- otherwise known as being on the losing side -- and that winning is far better.

Bill Shankly famously observed "some say football is a matter of life and death. It isn't. It's more important than that." That's a little over the top even for me, but Shankly did have an important point.

Of course the game is between 22 people on the field, but the reason we all feel the ups and downs of Rovers' fortunes so intensely is that it is about much more --- about loyalty, pride and the collective emotions of what amounts to a tribe. Beyond that, what I find so absorbing about football is that it is an allegory on life. You can think you are down and then you are OK, or, as in Rovers' case on Saturday, your emotions can go through a terrible roller-coaster.

Dejection after seven seconds; elation after a minute; not only joy when we went 3-1 up, but smug complacency. Well, the good book says "Pride cometh before a fall: an haughty spirit before damnation", and so it seemed on Saturday.

I just hope and pray that we can find the energy and staying power to get us through, successfully, the next two crucial games against Manchester City and Middlesbrough.

Anyway, other things which happened to me over the weekend were good, which is some comfort.

On Friday afternoon I opened the Higher Croft Children's Centre in Fishmoor Drive. It was great. In there under one roof are key children's services which should have been brought together years ago, but were not.

Nursery schools were run by the education department; day services by social services; the NHS provided other childrens' services.

In the new centre you not only have people from these services working co-operatively together, but also staff from Job Centre Plus, there to advise parents --- especially, but not exclusively, lone parents -- on getting back to work, and the child care and financial support available to ensure that they do so.

The value of these facilities to children, parents and the local community is immense.

Public investment of this sort has long-term spin-offs in education performance and social cohesion.

But one thing it will not -- and should not -- deal with is Blackburn Rovers' syndrome.

That will continue to afflict thousands of us for a long time to come.