I hate fall. Just the word. Fall. It’s like it’s the end of the world as we know it. It gets colder, darker and here in the land of the fiords, snow will soon fall, buses will slide off roads, old people will break their brittle bones walking on icy pavements.

The highlights of fall are few and far between. But one of them is the fact that the English football season is well on its way. The others are less obvious, like sitting inside drinking red wine every evening, reading and playing Championship Manager on my computer.

Right. So the season is well on its way. In Norway the season ended Sunday the 4th of November with the Cup Final. So all focus is moved across the North Sea and our English-speaking friends on the island of Britannia, last visited by hordes of fuming Norwegians in 1066 when we were defeated in a not-so-friendly at Stamford Bridge. Now, evidently, this was not the Stamford Bridge where Chelsea play these days. I blame the appalling pitch conditions for that defeat. However, England’s good form was not to last, as they were later that year defeated at Hastings by a Norman side (not Whiteside) managed by William D. Conqueror. But enough of the historic football matches.

The newspapers in Norway these days are full of stories about Liverpool’s John Arne Riise, who proved he has a lethal left foot, not unlike a certain Forest-legend. About the towering presence of Jon Olav Hjelde in the Forest defence, the papers remain remarkably quiet. So I have to look on the Internet for any Forest-related info. Another good thing to do in the dark, cold November nights, although lately the news has been depressing.

So will the season be jolly for us Forest fans this Christmas? Maybe. I don’t know. When Forest won at Watford, I really thought they were on the right track. The draw against Man City was just a temporary setback in what I believed could be the most impressive case of raising the dead since Lazarus. Then we lose to Sheffield Wednesday at home; a team whose start has hardly been impressive. And we fall to WBA away. Forgivable, but adding to the misery. Are we talking about a case of depression because of the fall here? I’d know the feeling. Hopefully, things can be turned around ASAP, although with Bartman contemplating a move to Southampton (meaning there’s a good chance we’ll see him again next season if we fail to win promotion) prospects do look bleak.

Most of all because we have no money. It’s all a bit like those Christmas tales, where poor people don’t have a turkey or anything else to eat, ragged clothes and are freezing. A bit like myself after running aimlessly through countless shops trying to find gifts to all the people I know, too. Maybe Santa Claus will come to the City Ground and drop a few million pounds down the chimney? Or maybe some rich Scrooge-like person will have mercy upon our beloved club and donate all his money to the distinctly empty coffers at Forest? We all know what we want for Christmas… 3 points in every game!