It is incredible what a few days away from the heat of battle and back to the daily grind can do for a seething City fan - well this one anyway. After Saturday's titanic struggle against Coventry I quite clearly remember recording frantic mental notes about our failure to make anything, let alone the most, out of dead ball situations.

It is incredible what a few days away from the heat of battle and back to the daily grind can do for a seething City fan - well this one anyway.

After Saturday's titanic struggle against Coventry I quite clearly remember recording frantic mental notes about our failure to make anything, let alone the most, out of dead ball situations.

Our defensive frailties and lack of cover from the middle were even more worrying while the lack of penetration down the flanks without certain personnel out on the pitch was a real cause for concern.

Throw in the performance from Premiership referee Andy D'Urso and we had a real recipe for disaster.

Yet again this season I found myself baffled by some of the apparent ineptitude going on out there, not just against us I hasten to add, but what on earth did we have to do at times to get a free kick, let alone an elusive penalty?

And just how did Hucks get blood pouring all over his knee? As far as I know things are not yet desperate enough to run to self-mutilation on the field of battle.

Right in front of me towards the end of the game I distinctly remember Lee Croft racing down the wing and being unceremoniously bundled off the ball by one of those rugby types that the opposition invariably seems to employ. (Can't North Walsham lend us a few? A couple of prop forwards ought to suffice).

Between the devil and the deep blue sea (aka referee and assistant on the near touchline) neither could manage to see anything wrong and play was waved on…not for the first time that afternoon.

Now I hate those typical stop-start affairs that leave me feeling like I've been to the cinema - all adverts and trailers and little actual film. But on more than a few occasions on Saturday I felt that we (and even they) were cheated out of potentially good positions that should have seen free kicks awarded, even though (see above) it was unlikely we would profit much from any such 'gifts' - still, you never know.

Anyway, walking away from Carrow Road on Saturday I had a head full of minutiae that I wanted to pick over and turn into one huge gripe; a few days later, with the glow of three points from Luton in my soul, it's indeed strange how the torment of the weekend seems less acute…not to mention lacking in specifics.

And so on to those three points which, incidentally, helped us leap above our blue friends down the A140 - a fact that did not go without notice south of the border in the good old East Anglian Daily Times.

My Tuesday evening spent at home consisted of arriving at the house after work 1-0 down as the air freshener in my car became history at this point due to frustration.

The equaliser meant my cat could be fed until Luton's second goal, which prompted an episode of remote-control bashing.

When we got back on level terms again I must have given my neighbours the impression I was being viciously attacked by a now full-up cat!

Finally, our oh so precious winner, from a set-piece no less, meant a frantic phone call had to be made to let someone else know the most joyous news of the week.

Ok, so we didn't scrape it 1-0 but it could have been a lot easier had the officials given a goal when Gary Doherty's header clearly crossed the line.

Time yet again for the goal line technology debate? No, not this week!

Time to knuckle down, to sweat and grind out a result.

If we win at lowly Barnsley this weekend then hopes of not only avoiding the drop but perhaps even a respectable finish would surely soar.

That's not to say that we should be looking to keep all the players we currently have - far from it. Now that's another topic for another day…if I can remember it after a few days back in the frantic world of work.