There are some good things about having family on the edge of London, and one of those is that you can go and see them when City are playing away in London. It also gave me the opportunity to meet up with some old mates to watch England dispose of the Australians before hurrying down to Hitchin station to get a train into Kings Cross.

On arrival at Kings Cross I met up with Laurence et al and we started to make our way through the underground network, stopping first of all at Liverpool Street Station. During the journey Laurence consistently asked whether I had met certain elements of the City support (most notably someone called Fletch) to which I answered in the negative most of the time.

The normal process of getting food at Liverpool Street was made all the more difficult by Laurence acting like a girl and refusing to eat, "any American rubbish"  and then after he'd decided to eat somewhere else, he spent 15 minutes trying to decide between two establishments. (Editors note: That's not exactly true, I just wanted decent food rather than McDonalds! It didn't take long to find) I was able to depart to replenish the beer stocks before Laurence had made up his mind, and after collecting his food he then entered into a massive panic about where city_reject and his friends had gone because they needed to be with us to get themselves to the ground. (Editors note: I wasn't panicking, but I did point out their group tickets weren't valid without the rest of us)

After deciding that neither myself, Laurence, Woody Wilson or Fredfroni cared what happened to City_reject and his friends we then entered into a huge debate about which train to get, which was really pointless. After jumping on a totally random train to get ourselves to Stratford (I've been told to point out that I spent around 5 minutes searching for the train to Stratford because I was looking at the WAGN trains and not the train service who actually operated a train service to Stratford), we walked up to the underground line to go the one stop to Leyton tube. (Editors note: We were actually waiting to see if Liam ("City reject") and co. would turn up, it didn't take long to get on a train although I believe Richard had difficulty reading the departure board!)

I say we walked up to the underground line, but for some unknown reason Laurence was in his practical joker mood, and he spent a few minutes pissing about trying to fool FredFroni into going in a different direction to us (once again, I've been asked to make an amendment here - apparently it was just Laurence trying to point out Fred's lack of geographical knowledge). Finally we walked up onto the platform where our train was standing, and ironically Woody said, "if the doors start to beep then jump on". Just as Laurence was making his way through the doors, they beeped and closed, nearly cutting him in half. Fortunately he made it onto the train however, but the same cannot be said of Fred, who was still standing on the platform.

On the train we noticed Fletch, and on getting off the train we bumped into City_reject and his mates, which was fortunate, for them. Fred was on the train behind us, and Laurence was determined to hide. I say determined, but he waited until Fred was on the platform before saying, "let's all run and hide", which was pointless as Fred had seen us. (Editors note: That isn't true!) Fred was later to tell us that despite being told numerous times that he was at Stratford station and that we were going to Leyton tube station, he had to ask where the train was, and even then he only got off the train when he saw us on the platform.

From there we embarked on a long and arduous walk in the pouring rain looking out desperately for a pub. For some totally unknown reason, the people around Leyton don't seem to have many pubs, so the only one we found was the Coach and Horses. The pre-match entertainment was listening to the Harrogate Minstermen have a singing contest with some Leyton Orient fans. It was more entertaining than I've made it sound, trust me.

Entering the ground was made difficult as none of us could remember where the away end was, and that the youngest steward in the football league pointed us towards some home turnstiles. Finally making it to the turnstile, I was worried when Woody was asked for Id to prove that he was under the age of 16, while I was allowed in no problem. (Editors note: I kept trying to tell them where the away end was, but they insisted on asking various stewards regardless! And I have no idea why Richard pretends to be 15 when he can use his NUS card to obtain the discount!)

A short debate then raged between myself and a programme seller. My point being that York would beat Orient, and his was that they wouldn't. After much wrangling and Woody's incapability of reading a sign that said, "Male Toilets" we reached our seats only to find they were old wooden seats that were really uncomfortable.

Onto the match, and just 85 seconds had passed and we were 1-0 behind. The home support exploded into silence following the goal, and then after around 35 minutes one of their players dived and from the free-kick some arse-hole tapped in the ball from a couple of yards out. He had been off-side but the linesman was a bit thick and hadn't worked out how to put his flag up into the air. I believe I heard someone cough in the Orient stand as the 2nd goal went in, but it was difficult to actually know if anyone in the Orient end of the ground was awake as they rarely made any noise.

Three brilliant chances had gone begging for City, and we were wondering quite how we were 2-0 down against a useless team "supported" by the quietest fans in the country, and as the 2nd half began City came more into the game. Edmonson's quality finish was followed up by Brackstone's goal a couple of minutes later. Brackstone's leveller led to someone in our party ringing up Cuza, who had missed the train at York, to inform him of what a fantastic match it was that he was missing. The equalizing goal also saw Woody Wilson jump up and smash his shin bone on the seat in front of us, something about which he'd moan about for most of the afternoon, and my jumping on a seat in the away end, which lead to it splitting slightly. Shows the poor state of their away seats. City should have gone on to collect all 3 points, but having come from 2-0 down, a point was a very good result.

Heading back up to Liverpool Street should have been simple and uneventful, but Fred managed to make sure that he did everything he could to make sure it wasn't such. On departing Leyton tube he refused to hold onto anything, and then went flying down the carriage knocking a couple of people out of the way as he lost his balance, before getting off the train at the first stop, only to realise that no-one else was getting off the train. This time he managed to make it back onto the tube before the train doors shut, which was a pity. Fred was in a badly designed coat, and when he put his hat up he did look like Paddington Bear. I still have no idea what possessed him to wear such an article on such a trip. Aside from Fred, Laurence was busy celebrating Leeds defeat (do they do anything else these days?) and I was busy trying to persuade Woody to do a chin up on the bar on the roof of the train, only to attempt it myself which led to me nearly going through the doors on the train.

From there we made our slow way back to Kings Cross via the underground. At this point the "FredFroni charity fund" started it's attempts to raise money to get Fred some food seeing as how he'd managed to make himself totally broke, yet unfortunately no-one was willing to throw in some money for Fred so he could get himself a packet of minstrels. Those heading back to North Yorkshire were booked on the 18.00 train (or something like that) and with plenty of time to spare everyone went off in different directions so I sorted out a couple of drinks for the way home, and headed off back to Hitchin.

Probably the most exciting away game so far this season.

Forum link: Read fans views of the game here