I’m now 63 and I remember saying flippantly to my mum as a teenager after a poor school report that I just wanted a job that let me see Palace home and away.

Thankfully I matured, studied hard at Uni, and had a good career meaning that when after 50 years Palace had the away trips of all away trips, I could go. Palace home and away!

Getting the 7.05 am flight from Heathrow meant a 3.45am start, but to see all the Palace shirts and hear all the Palace chatter in the boarding queue was incredible. The sense of Palace family was, I think, second only to Cup Final day.

The hour’s train from Oslo to Fredrikstad had similar passengers to London Bridge to Norwood Junction, but rather than views of Millwall and Anerley, you got views of big river estuaries and Norwegian farms. Fredrikstad station was like a Hansel and Gretel house – Norwood Junction, you’re going to have to up your game…

Arriving at Fredrikstad at midday I had time to kill so I took the free ferry to the old town. Though I’ve travelled widely, what was striking about Fredrikstad was just how friendly the people were – people would come up to me, in my Palace shirt, and wish me luck for the game. The town had Fredrikstad flags everywhere and they were all pleased to have a Premier League team, and cup winners at that, visiting.

While Fredrikstad isn’t seen as a tourist destination, imagine a town populated with Jonathan Parr’s! Add to that a beautiful old town, with courtyard cafés, and it quickly becomes the most magical place for Palace’s first European adventure.

Yes, the ground itself is in the poorer end of town, on the site of long closed shipyards, but the people, the Old Town and European football made it a magical couple of days for 1,700 Palace fans.

Writing this while waiting for a train back to Oslo, and then a flight to Stockholm, and then a flight to Heathrow… a long roundabout trip, but I’ll be back in time to go to Birmingham on Sunday – where I suspect the surroundings won’t be so magical, but where the Palace family will once again shout themselves hoarse…

Hans