40 minutes before kickoff and my transport is within sight of the ground.

The only trouble is, it's Pride Park, some considerable distance away from where the black and white action is today. Thanks to a bout of post-festive lunacy, what should have been a grief-free journey down the M1 turned instead into the automotive equivalent of "Walking With Dinosaurs".

 Lemmings masquerading as car drivers attempted extinction at every turn and the dreaded rubber neckers were spread across all six lanes, as successive junctions brought more and more accidents and less and less chance of making kickoff.

Thankfully, some expert map reading and back-road-charlie deviations through Derbyshire somehow got us to the Leicester ringroad as local radio was running through the lineups, and when a parking space appeared in front of us yards from the ground as the match kickoff, it seemed that the Gods would reward us for our persistence.

What has become somewhat of a bogey ground for goals and wins was today transformed into an arena of pleasure for the occupants of the shanty town masquerading as an away section. For the first time, Shearer and Ferguson genuinely looked like they were operating on similar frequencies, and were ably supported by Lee and Solano, not to mention the defence. Chances were carved out and enough taken to claim the win, in a stark contrast to the last away nightmare at Valley Parade....

City were down to what Harry Redknapp would call "bare bones" with the dangerous Guppy and the malevolent Lennon both absent, and Heskey a pale imitation of his usual robust self, (I'm referring to his playing style here, not making a racist remark, before the Sunday Sun sound the sirens....) 

When Cottee departed with Newcastle two goals ahead, it seemed that the afternoon would end without any upsets, but inevitably we began missing chances (Ferguson, Solano, Lee) and they got one back. However, the only real chance of an equaliser was a Heskey header that mercifully dropped into the arms of Harper.

Highlight of the afternoon was undoubtedly a small five minute cameo in which the home fans shouted abuse at Shearer, only to see him break away and claim the second and killer goal. This then prompted his celebrations, and the gleeful look on his face told its own story. 

Within minutes he also indulged in a little bout of ear tugging / finger across the lips mime with the Leicester fans - the message being very clear. While he was undoubtedly chuffed to have scored past his old mucker Tim Flowers, the taking of an opportunity to silence a jeering home crowd was taken, with "aplomb, you have to say. Des."

I can honestly say I've never liked these lot, and coming to Filbert Street remains one of our most hazardous away trips. Plans for their new ground appear to have bitten the dust, and any sort of a result here is a double-edged sword, with the consequent possibility of post-match "action." 

This is the venue remember, where riot police invaded the pitch and two Newcastle fans lost eyes less than seven years ago. Today though the locals were comparatively sane and muted - many trailing away long before full time and missing what turned out to be their consolation.

So, happy to take three points yes, but only truly satisfied when they either get relegated or build a ground fit for the 21st Century, or even the 20th. However, both scenarios look fairly unlikely, unless the present boardroom power struggle produces a devastating turnaround in either finance or the departure of Martin O'Neill.

Comment must be made finally, on the appalling odours emanating from what was laughingly called a catering outlet in the away section. The stench of stagnant meat hung about in the stand in a manner reminiscent of Vietnam, or possibly Walker Boneyard. 

Unquestionably the sampling of the hidden delights on offer would have been a greater threat to a successful day out that anything messrs Heskey and Co. could muster.....