We didn't have much time to dream and prepare for our appearance back on the big stage today; something we need to thank the wise heads at the FA for after they decided to squeeze in another worthless England friendly, thus putting our replay back to just four days before 5th Round weekend.

We didn't have much time to dream and prepare for our appearance back on the big stage today; something we need to thank the wise heads at the FA for after they decided to squeeze in another worthless England friendly, thus putting our replay back to just four days before 5th Round weekend.

Well done to the Carrow Road ticket office for organising the swift sale and despatch of our tickets by the way.

One thing is for certain though: the narrow margin victory after extra time in the week has put Norwich City back, albeit temporarily, in the footballing limelight.

It's incredible how the public eye, which is all but closed to anything sub-Premiership, stares wide open at all the top four do. Draw the reigning English champions in the cup and five minutes of fame are guaranteed. Just ask Wycombe Wanderers.

On a recent holiday, I took along my signed copy of Capital Canaries' president Bryan Gunn's “In Where it Hurts”; my first and best opportunity to finally read it from front to back cover.

For a moment, I was pleasingly transported back to the early 90's, that halcyon period when City were well and truly rubbing shoulders with the great and the good and not looking the slightest out of place.

Fifteen years is a long time in football though and, without wishing to go over already much trodden ground, today's 'last 16' meeting with the might of Chelsea serves only to remind us of the huge chasm that now separates us from the cream of the Premiership millionaires.

With the continued huge investments from TV companies and the persistent swelling of the 'EPL' global brand we can only sit back and watch the fat get fatter as we hope our club can but feed off the best of the scraps.

Just in case anyone was in any doubt, enter Roman Abramovich, Malcolm Glazer, George Gillett and Tom Hicks.

The fresh face of English club football's rich list has entered a dramatic new era.

Our hosts today of course were the pioneers of this when the filthy affluence of Abramovich arrived in West London in June 2003. Quite whether our exploits a decade and a half ago (so wonderfully reminisced over in Gunny's autobiography) will ever be repeated seems ever more unlikely.

For us, today's cash prize of £300,000, a mere fraction of the Chelski weekly wage bill, will at least help boost the Carrow Road coffers.