I began the day's trip in fine spirits. Leaving the house at 10AM, 'twas a mere walk to the station. Greeted there by messers Marcus Knott and Kingmouse, making conversation until I popped into WHSchmitt for the trademark drink, paper (the Sun being the obvious choice) and Fox's Glacier Mints. Oh my yes, the ultimate in mints.

To be honest, this would rank as one of the less eventful away trips. Although it matters not a jot in the long run, it's less for me to write about, hence you endure more waffle, like so. Numerous card games aside, time passed of sufficient interest.

And so we arrived at Burton-on-Trent (via Derby), a fairly small station, with a shop outside. Myself and the rest of the Posse found a chippy near Derby Road, or something. I can't remember. Stood around AGES waiting for the food as I didn't want anything. Eventually, we began the walk to the ground, which was of unprecedented length - went on forever did Derby Road! ENDLESS cheap-looking housing/shops, the usual irritating "boy-racers" (damn them in their flash cars.) Only just noticed the entrance to the ground, actually, as it was a very sharp turn to the left.

Upon entry, we were directed by several steward chaps ALL THE WAY around the ground, through a park - yes, you read that right first time. Eton Park really did live up to it's name...

It all looked very professional until there was no actual path leading the turnstiles, thus having to traipse across a small area of grass. No huge inconvenience, but it's little things like this that make dodgy little grounds like this even more of an irritation. Thankfully, I managed to get into the ground for £3 (I am 13, but don't look it at all.) Bought a programme off a group of several Ghetto children, the programme of which I would describe with words like "dull" and "crap".

The ground itself literally screamed Ryman League. God-awful PA system, amusingly mind-numbing announcer chap, rubbish stands. Although our stand did have a huge fence which made a racket when hit, rather like the fence near the Longhurst at Bootham Crescent.

But the game. THE GAME. Now, it's not my job to review matches (look on the Match Reports forum if you want an in-depth view on the game.) But I can tell you York played great passing football, looking far, far stronger than our Conference adversaries. Stockdale made a class save - it all looked solid at the back. Irritatingly, the ball would simply not go in the net, as has been the case too many times.

In the second half Burton came into it more, but then we scored and killed the game a little. Then we scored a second right at the end. Umm... that's all have to say.

And so we left the ground in completely the opposite way we came in, contrary to the way most City fans enjoy it at BC. No member of the Red & Blue Posse had any idea as to where we were, so looked for the nearest bus stop (pretty much just down the road, by the way.) It was widely agreed that we should jump off at the station. The bus stopped at red lights some way along, and a car next to us was full of Burton fans. So of course, we took every opportunity to rub salt in the wound, showcasing flags and The Crest at every opportune moment. With credit, they took it well. If you are one of those Burton fans and reading this, bless your hearts.

The journey back flew by. Stopped for too long at Derby for something to eat (sausage and chips in my case, from a chip shop over the road from the station.) Mark and Dave (The Post Master General) were going to race us, by going on an earlier train, to us to see who got back to York first. Alas Mark chickened out, the whole thing fell through and an uneventful ride back to York was enjoyed in their company.

In conclusion, a superb, albeit uneventful day out was had by all (far more enjoyable than this article makes out.) To be blunt, Burton's a pretty grotty little town - with ground to match - until the metal skeleton of their new stadium is filled, anyhow... But York won, so who am I to moan?