A fan's-eye view from Turf Moor, with Stephen Cummings

BEFORE last weekend I had publicly doubted that 5.15am actually existed. I'd heard rumours that it did, but rather like the Loch Ness Monster, Bigfoot, and Blackburn Rovers "going straight back up", I had dismissed it as pure folly.

But there it was on Saturday morning, larger than life and blaring out of my radio alarm clock. One hour later I was still reeling from the shock of this revelation as I boarded the Supporters Club coach for Colchester.

As I took my seat it became immediately apparent that fate had chosen to frown on me. I found myself next to the only Burnley supporter in the world (ever) who thought that 6.15am was a good time to listen to Drum and Bass at full blast on his personal stereo. Well, I say "personal" but it was actually loud enough to cause people in places as far away as Ipswich to jam their fingers in their ears.

Occasionally, as he listened, a low guttural noise would escape his throat, rather giving the impression he was choking. No such luck. After three hours of this we stopped for a break. Rarely have I been so delighted to arrive at a service station.

And so on to Colchester. Layer Road resembles nothing so much as a long-forgotten jungle outpost. All peeling paint and crumbling terraces. Think Blackpool except smaller and in blue and you're just about there. It was here I encountered Essex Man. At 6ft 2ins and 16 stone with manners as coarse as his stubbly chin, Essex-man cut an intimidating figure. Throughout the next 90 minutes Essex-man aired his views on the game, displaying an impressive knowledge of the earthier aspects of the English vocabulary. He became particularly animated when Ian Wright failed to convert a half chance, suggesting the striker should be "shot" for missing. Personally I thought this a little harsh (apart from anything else it would have reduced us to 10 men) but thought better of engaging in debate with him.

At full-time Essex-man bade me farewell. His parting shot was a request that we "stick it up Preston next week". Even with an accompanying and explicit hand gesture, I was still unable to ascertain exactly what we should be sticking and where. Nor did I seek clarification.

The coach journey home? You've guessed it - six hours solid Drum and Bass. Thank God we are at home next weekend.

Converted for the new archive on 14 July 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.