THE JOY OF GOING AWAY

ON THE radio Gabrielle sings about dreams.

Fluffy tassels protrude from the car window's top edge, trapped rigid. The rest of my scarf quivers outside, a red and white ensign lofted by the motorway headwind.

One mishap with our new-fangled electric windows and it will skedaddle through the air and lay to rest in some South Yorkshire farmer's field.

"I can't stand this song," says my Dad as he blindly jabs the 'MW' button. Quickly we are hearing pre-match tidings of Sheffield Wednesday's trip to Anfield and Oldham's hosting of Ipswich.

Radio Five is more our thing, the rhythms and crescendos of its Saturday coverage our muchloved album. Medium Wave 909 and 693; there were so many numbers then and all of them still offer comfort when recalled Ceefax 302, Teletext 140, Middlesbrough ClubCall 0898 12 11 81...

Scarves hover from other cars on the M1, some we pass and some that pass by. Many are red and white, Boro like us or the Sunderland-minded bound for Derby. Encountering blues or maroons, we try to guess the team; "Black and amber. Where are Hull today?" During term time, through all torturous school days, I think in these colours - someone has a red and blue striped pencil case and I picture Selhurst Park on the telly, then a teacher's quartered blouse summons Bristol Rovers.

It is an obsession that makes real-life supporters queuing at the Burger King concession in Woodall Services seem impossibly exotic.

We reach Nottingham and I'm still thinking what a shame it is that neither of this city's teams play in the green home colours of Robin Hood.

Outside Meadow Lane, Dad buys me a programme, just like he does at Ayresome Park, and we are seduced by the vapours of a burger van, which happens there too. We perch on a wall to eat and watch people trickling towards the ground. Most wear black and white with the occasional yellow flicker.