I went to Wembley for the League Cup Final in 1980, and again for the Sherpa Van in 1988 - even though I was suffering from Glandular Fever at that time. Life changed hugely after that however, and my last trip to Molineux - or indeed any football match - was ten years ago last October. So now, during the most exciting times we've seen in generations, I find myself on the fringes of all the excitement and anticipation. Or at least having to make the most of it in a different way. I don't have the concern over ticket availability, though I remember it well, and desperately wish I did now. Transport is not a worry. Meeting up with friends not an option. Yet I watch the televised matches, I listen to everything else, and Nuno and the team bring a glow to my life. I've always been incredibly proud just to be a Wolves fan, but now the pride in what is happening on the pitch, and around the club in general, is tangible too. My friends - generally fans of the main North West clubs - are sitting up and taking notice, and in many cases pleased to see our progress. A week on Tuesday I'll be spending up to a couple of hours in an MRI scanner. My body will be there, but my mind... my mind will be far away from hospitals, at Molineux, and at Wembley, reliving, dreaming... My body can and does stop me playing a part in person, but nothing can stop where my mind takes me. Wolves always.