BANK Holiday Monday. Somehow defying the existing laws of physics, I managed to drag my weary frame out of bed at 7.15am. This feat is doubly impressive when you stop to consider I spent much of Sunday evening attempting to drink my own body weight in strong, continental lager.

An hour later, I had somehow made it onto the coach outside Turf Moor. Pulling away from the ground I decide to catch up on some sleep. However, those organising the trip had other ideas, as they slap on a video, turning the volume up to levels only hitherto encountered at nuclear bomb testing sites.

It is then, something of a relief when we pull into Keele Services. Until, that is, we come across some Manchester City fans who, spying my Burnley shirt, laugh so hard that they end up requiring medical attention for their split sides.

Having paid £225 for what is allegedly a tuna sandwich, we set off again. There is no respite from video hell. This time we are "invited" to sit through an hour's worth of country and western singer Shania Twain, with special guests Elton John and the Back Street Boys. I am so happy about this I almost vomit. I realise the volume is still a tad too high when my ears start bleeding all over my replica top. Blends well with the Claret though.

Eventually we arrive in gloriously sunny Bristol and make our way into the Memorial Ground. I am less than impressed to discover that I have parted with a tenner only to find my view obscured by a floodlight pylon. Consequently I am unable to see most of the game, but leave the ground with an intimate knowledge of said pylon.

Peering through the pylon, Burnley look poor in the first half. They are not helped by a referee who considers looking sideways at someone to be a bookable offence. Bristol are awarded a joke penalty. Strangely, no Burnley fans laugh as Cureton scores.

Half time sees a local gymnastics troupe cartwheel, somersault and back flip around the centre circle. "Very good," I say to my mate, "but let's see them try it on a wet Tuesday night in November." In the second half, Burnley are even worse, and get just what they deserve - nowt. Going back to the coach my mate points out I've developed a lobster pink suntan. Well, at least it blends with the Claret.

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