Our tale starts back in September, at a game in against Aldershot Town, just two days after the death of our club's biggest icon and most legendary manager, Jimmy Sirrel. It was a day of raw emotion that reminded me why I love this football club, and the behaviour of the visiting fans showed why I love lower league football. 
But, a comment from one fan on that day sticks with me even more, as three generations of my Notts supporting family stood with me Meadow Lane to applaud what Sirrel did for this club. A middle aged bloke behind me muttered to his mate: "Remember those days - back when we were good?". His response was just a muted "aye", but it's a retort that I'm horribly envious of.
I've only been going to watch this club week in, week out for six years. I started as an excitable 10-year-old lad just happy to be somewhere with lots of swearing and where I felt a genuine connection - a connection that, as all proper football fans know, never goes away (unless you support Milton Keynes Dons that is).
Six long seasons - not one top-half finish, a succession of laughably bad footballers and managers, and that connection is still there. I still have an affinity with Notts County, but I feel like a lover who is only staying in a sour relationship because "I really, really do love him".
So that brings us to last night's trip to Kettering Town for the FA Cup second round replay. This domestic competition is still viewed with a dewy eyed romanticism by many football fans, and I'm not really any different deep down. But, I've learned to treat the competition with suspicion after some calamities. That's the beauty of it, because everyone has good and bad memories to recall.
The first game between us and the Poppies was a dour 1-1 draw, with few highlights and little to get the romantic cup juices flowing, yet enough to stimulate the slightly erratic Setanta to pick us for their live replay. Extra incentive was provided, with the winners facing a home game against the lowest ranked team left in the competition, Nottinghamshire's very own Eastwood Town.
I felt a kind of giddy enthusiasm that I hadn't experienced in a while, and my dad and I were actually in pretty good spirits, despite getting totally lost in the ghost town that is Kettering town centre. Comical attempts to read a street-side map ensued, where we discovered we'd gone completely the wrong way. Cue a u-turn and trek along a main road to Rockingham Road - marvellous.
The first thing that hits you when approaching are the floodlights, which I believe are supposed to look like big illuminating 'K's. In fact, they just looked like they were screwed in place by someone with a fear of symmetry. Outside the away end it was a night of huge cups of coffee, those tacky 'half-and-half' scarves and people's visible breath dissipating into the Northamptonshire sky. Swiftly sampling the delightful toilets, which proved to be the second worst we've visited on our travels (take a bow, Hereford United), we proceeded in joining the 260 brave souls who'd travelled to gather behind the goal.
The first half was, in truth, a non-event, keeping with the trend set by the first match. Exodus Geoghagan hurled a couple of long-throws into the mixer without effect, whilst Delroy Facey and Matt Hamshaw tested Lee Harper.
The breakthrough was to come however, when the enigmatic Myles Weston set up Jay Smith to send an unstoppable shot crashing in off the underside of the bar, with Harper simply a spectator. 
Smith's first goal in two years was greeted with wild celebrations from us behind the goal, and excitable dances when we noticed a Setanta camera pointing our way, like those people who notice they're on the big screen at Wembley and make themselves look like complete idiots. We then turned our attentions to the Kettering fans nearest to us, who'd spent more of the first half dishing out abuse to anyone who'd listen to inform them that they weren't singing any more.
Now, I don't know what Ian MacParland said to those players at half time, but he quite clearly has some sort of Midas touch when it comes to team talks - please note the sarcasm. Countless times this season have we gone in at the break in good shape, and then conceded within five minutes of play resuming. So, the only sounds that greeted Brett Solkhon beating Myles Weston to a Geoghagan cross, to divert it past Hoult were collective groans familiarity.
Things were to get worse, as we immediately sacrificed possession, and a neat passing move from the hosts ended in the impressive Gareth Seddon lashing the ball past Hoult from the edge of the area. Rockingham Road erupted, apart from the handful of us stood desolate, wondering how on earth, in the space of fifteen minutes, McParland had managed to de-motivate his players to such an extent.
After this, there was only ever going to be one winner. We'd let a very committed and brave Kettering side get their tails up, and they simply wanted it more. They were first to every ball and buzzed around the pitch making tackles, looking by far the side most likely to give the game a fourth goal.
Hoult was forced into action to shovel a dipping Christie shot past the post, whilst both Seddon and Solkhon had chances to put the game to bed. We briefly rallied, with Facey attempting an audacious overhead kick which whistled past the post. Not enough… again.