Brighton, early morning start, headlights scathe brightness from the dark on the A1, without full beam myriads of grubby road signs whisper destinations, only “Kendrew Barracks” clean as a whistle stands outs.

It’s hard to shake the image of squaddies being despatched to clean and polish a road sign as some form of punitive chore. The truth of course is more mundane, it’s a new sign and a new name as the Army took over RAF Cottesmore former home of the Harrier in 2012.

Sunrise, outside, red skies, Sheppard’s Warning, we sheep should know. Inside Steve Tilston washes over me, like waves crashing on the beach, the music mesmerises and while the autopilot part of me is driving the car, I’m elsewhere. It’s a good place to be.

“Reaching Back” a five CD retrospective of Steve’s work is perfectly timed for a four hundred mile round trip. The “Reckoning” stands ready for any diversions. Stanstead flies by, the M25 leans forever towards the right and £2 buys you passage on the Queen Elizabeth II bridge.

Eventually Brighton beckons, London Road Car Park the cheapest in town. North Lanes in the rains, a wonderful wacky collection of eccentric independent shops, quality weirdness and tacky treasures sit side by side with more eating establishments than Billy Bunter could cope with.

Comic humour though seems to have affected Trip Advisor as the top restaurants include a Pizza takeaway, an café that only does snacks and “Ten Green Bottles” who are a wine merchant with the odd bit of cheese thrown in but as one dead pan contributor puts it “Service is a little inattentive though at times.”

Off to the Amex Stadium with free travel on buses and trains. We elect for a number 25. We watch the LED screens, the 25 is due, another 25 in one minute after, it’s a good plan. Buses come and buses go, the mythical 25 disappears yet again from the display.

Twenty minutes later a 25 bendy bus arrives, another is concertinaed behind. From boarding to the University it’s thirty five minutes of stop start with some clown pressing the “Bus Stopping Button” every ten seconds.

After numerous stops where the doors whoosh open and then snap close again with no net additions or subtractions the humour is wearing very thin.

We elect the walk rather than the round trip, driving rain pierces like needles, my forehead numb like the chill from eating ice cream too fast. With ice cream through it lasts seconds, this ice lasts all the way past Falmer railway station and into the ground.

The Amex Stadium itself is without a doubt impressive from its curves and design to the catering where they sell Cask Ale through the padded seats with back supports which touch the base of your shoulder blade to the leg room and the view of the pitch, it beats Arsenal as the best ground in the UK and when they add the corners which they are currently working on then it should be as big as Pride Park.

Derby line up 4-5-1, the surprise being John Brayford chosen as a central midfielder, Nigel Clough drops Michael Jacobs to the bench.

Within seconds of the start our left is exposed we survive but it’s a warning. We don’t heed it. A copycat attack, Gareth Roberts again nowhere, Mark O’Brien trailing, the cross comes in and Ashley Barnes taps the ball home with Richard Keogh watching.

If the idea of Brayford in midfield is to add bite it’s not working. All the pecking is coming from the Seagulls, they fight push, shove, foul and dive their way into a commanding position, the referee is weak and ineffective but the Rams accept it and don’t compete.

Ball bouncing near the centre circle, Keogh tries a head, a high Brighton foot wins the ball and whilst Keogh whinges Brighton again switch the ball to our left, again the cross comes in and this time Andrea Orlandi meets the cross with a bullet header to put the home side two nil up and we haven’t even had half an hour gone.

No changes, we carry on, it’s embarrassing our lack of fight, we stand and watch as the home side perform like Leeds of Old, in truth also like Leeds they have some excellent footballers and don’t need to play this way but they do and it’s successful.

Will Hughes jumps for the ball and whilst in the air is fouled, the Seagull playing the man with no chance of the ball, Hughes lands awkwardly and raises his arm immediately upon hitting the deck. We play on and then Conor Sammon suffers the same challenge and this time the referee blows. Hughes is assisted off and Jamie Ward comes on in the 44th minute.

Half time over and we persist in the same manner as those competing in a sack race. The travelling faithful demand “4-4-2”, Clough keeps to the 4-5-1 with Ward wide.

Will Buckley, whose persistent diving and fouling should have earned a booking or two, could had added a third only for a fine couple of saves by Adam Legzdins and a goalmouth clearance by Paul Coutts. Still we flounder.

Finally after over an hour of having one hand tied behind our back we change it. Jacobs comes on for Kieron Freeman, Brayford reverts to fullback and we start playing chuffing football and take the fluffing game to Brighton.

A free kick on the edge of the box is drilled in low by Ward and Jeff Hendrick gambles and adds a slight touch to steer the ball home with twenty minutes left. It’s our first shot on target.

And for those remaining twenty minutes with the team set up properly we take the game to Brighton. We pepper the goal, or rather the seats behind the goal. We almost score.

We witness the old fashioned “everybody out” as we float a late free kick into the box, Ward runs on, “was he off” we ask, from our position its impossible to tell but he seemed to run through whilst others stood holding their hands stating no intention.

But having being short-changed for an hour of this match it’s not enough, we can’t claim a second and Brighton win 2-1.

Leaving the Amex, we reflect on what could have been had we been positive for ninety minutes whilst our manager on Radio Derby apparently took positives out of the defeat.

Thereby is the difference, we the fans want to win, we believe we can win whoever we are playing home or away.

A bus back into Brighton and then the 196 mile journey begins, we avoid the snow but back in the village hours later it’s already below zero.

Just another pointless day on the road supporting your un-ambitious club.... we’ve all had them haven’t we guys!?

Photo: Action Images

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