As if ever confirmation was needed that life is well and truly back to normal post-San Francisco, Saturday saw my first away match with Barnsley since landing back in the country.
The 600-mile round trip to Portsmouth meant an 18-hour day from leaving home to returning there, and the team lost 2-0.
Only a small number of fans made the journey to the other end of the country, and spent the game backing the team noisily, even when it was clear defeat was inevitable.
I made the return trip north with no voice left, having exhausted it at some point early in the second half. We are the post-religious, singing hymns and believing what is clearly nonsense, but the glue of the crowd makes it so.
So life is as it ever was - I visited San Francisco, was mugged, had a ride in a police car, and left again. Now I spend my free time as I have spent it since my mid-teens - at away games, cold, lonely, frustrated, pensive, springing up from my seat at the merest sign of encouragement.
I am a human jack-in-the-box at times, animal noises coming out of my throat when we look like we might be about to do something positive: a long, hopeful growl.
Most of the time, our moves break down, and I re-attach myself to my seat muttering expletives to no-one in particular - fucking hell, eh? At Fratton Park, Barnsley were set for a draw, and conceded two goals in the space of about 90 seconds. Fuck me, eh? Fucking typical.
It is at these times, when everything is as it has ever been, that the momentum of change is somehow at its greatest.
As I mark time watching football matches, I am nonetheless aware of the push which was set in motion last week. I can feel the shove in the back, which guarantees nothing in itself, but holds out at least the probability that everything will be inverted.
I half-promised that if I came back from San Francisco in the grip of misery - which, when I listened to my heart beforehand, was so obvious that it hardly needed to be expressed - I would try to do something about a long-held ambition I have kindled.
Now the wheels are in motion. There can be no flinching when it seems as though they are about to roll over the top of you, for this is what happens when one makes eye contact with risk.
