It was just like old times, those sepia-tinged, heady days of late-summer 2009, when rubbish teams would traipse up to the Lane and be promptly destroyed, with our heroes requiring nothing beyond second gear. From the outset the only worry last night was that we might fail to turn domination into goals, but merrily this was not to be one of those wretched occasions.

Quite a week for Gareth Bale, now universally regarded as being up there alongside Pele, sliced bread, the wheel and opposable thumbs on the list of The Best Things Anyone Has Ever Seen Anywhere, Ever. Unfortunately, and I suppose inevitably, one publication has gone completely overboard in their praise of the chap, the Daily Telegraph going to the ludicrous extent of describing Bale as "photogenic".

In between various planes and trains back from Morocco I managed to catch yesterday's goings-on at Elland Road, and jolly heartening they were too. One of my brothers, for whom the rigours of parenthood mean that Spurs-watching is less frequently indulged in these days, texted afterwards to note that, as the first full Spurs game he has seen in around a year, he was pleasantly surprised by our performance.

Well this Champions League business is turning out to be cracking fun. Never mind the tube strike, I think most of us floated home aboard Cloud 9 last night.

White Hart Lane's finest hour? Those who watched Danny Blanchflower lift the League title back in the spring of ‘61 might beg to differ, and by all accounts the UEFA Cup Final win of '84 was one heck of a night, but the denizens of AANP Towers have been up all night carefully weaving a blow-by-blow account of last night's fun into the tapestry of The Most Blinking Marvellous Tottenham Moments of All Time.

Team selection was never really an issue when we were banging them in left, right and centre and the side picked itself, but times are a-changing. While annus horribilis is probably a bit strong, our form since the turn of the year has been worrying, reflected not only by poor results and sloppy performances but now scrutiny of the line-up.

A theory doing the rounds in some quarters is that the crunch games in our push for fourth is not the quartet against the big boys (Man Utd-l'Arse-Chelski-City) but the four against the less glamorous mob – Pompey, Sunderland, Burnley and Bolton. Anything less than three points against each of this lot, so goes the theory, and we really will throw away fourth spot.

Tempus doesn't half fugit when things are going swimmingly. It barely seem five minutes ago that we pitched up to the Lane for the first time this season, to offer Steven Gerrard some legal advice ("Self-defence, you're having a laugh") and salute BAE's frankly mental long-range effort.

Something for your withdrawal symptoms if, like yours truly, you have such a Tottenham-shaped hole in your life that you now spend the first half hour of your working day actually working, rather than trawling the interweb for morsels of Spurs news. Before season 2009/10 becomes but a sepia-tinged memory sending good vibrations through your very core, it is only right and proper that the second AANP End of Season Awards are dished out.

That's more like it. Six points from two tricky fixtures and we now sit level on points with l'Arse and Man Utd. Admittely ours has been a fairly gentle fixture-list to date, but given our struggles to juggle Premiership and Champions League I'm quite grateful for what he have.

This Week's VDV Magic

Having bossed games in recent weeks this was a relatively mundane showing from Van der Vaart, but when you hail from Amazingville then even your mundane showings are sprinkled with magnificence, and so it was that VDV's quiet day still brought about the game's best piece of skill and a game-changing moment.

As the great man said, it's a funny old game. Prior to a trip to a slightly below-par Man Utd I could not for the life of me envisage a three-point haul; and yet ahead of the visit of European Champs Inter I bound around AANP Towers all bonny, blithe and gaily optimistic that this will be one of the most famous nights in our history.

From sublime to ridiculous in two shakes of a lamb's tail. How Inter Milan must have shaken their heads in bewilderment. On Saturday our heroes appeared to be running a competition amongst themselves as to who could make the most mistakes, with bonus points for any particular ineptitude that led to a Bolton goal.

Admittedly it was more school playground than Champions League, but never mind that – huzzah! We won the group! And as ever, we did it the Tottenham way! Lovers of the drab and dreary on Tuesday and Wednesday nights have been swooning in horror ever since we began this merry European jaunt with that kamikaze first half in the Wankdorf Stadium against Young Boys, but they can ruddy well buckle themselves in and hold their breath, because we'll be marching back for more in 2011.

What ho. It's been a while, hasn't it – in fact we haven't had a league game this decade. When we last wandered these parts our glorious heroes had gone into overdrive – four wins in five, clean sheet after clean sheet and plenty of attacking brio. A pessimist might bemoan the fact that the wintry interlude has rudely interrupted the momentum that had been gathering; but Hull at home presents an excellent opportunity to pick up where we left off.

(Yes yes, it's about a year late. Sorry. Finishing touches being applied to the opus Spurs' Cult Heroes)

It appears that "Just one of those days" is lined up to become ‘Arry's Triffic Phrase of the Season 2009/10, following the success of "Two points, eight games" last year. The official company line at least appears to be that the blank drawn against Hull is not something about which to get too worked up, and in a sense one can appreciate the point – we may not have been at our fluid best, but Gomes spent most of the game in smoking-jacket and slippers, puffing contentedly on cigar and squinting down the far end of the pitch.

As I'm away for the weekend, thought I'd post the Spurs-Everton preview nice and early...

Confusion hath made its masterpiece here at AANP Towers. Are we back on track, or is this just a fleeting break from the woes of 2010? Sunday's game should help clarify a situation that has become rather confusing for legions of bandwagon-jumpers.

<! /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Arial Unicode MS"; panose-1:2 11 6 4 2 2 2 2 2 4; mso-font-charset:128; mso-generic-font-family:swiss; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-1 -369098753 63 0 4129279 0;} @font-face {font-family:"@Arial Unicode MS"; panose-1:2 11 6 4 2 2 2 2 2 4; mso-font-charset:128; mso-generic-font-family:swiss; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-1 -369098753 63 0 4129279 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.

Well I would have settled for a draw beforehand – that it was such a memorable, high-octane, pulsating spectacle of a game was a bonus. As against Bolton in the last round, the AANP view is that our opponents have blown their best chance of victory by failing to beat us on their own patch. Back at the Lane and under the floodlights I fancy us to come out on top, injuries permitting.

Strangely nervous ahead of this one, precisely because we are such overwhelming favourites. We at AANP Towers would happily trade all of the following for three points, in any way or form, but as I idle away the final minutes of the day-job, the following notions float to mind...

A Dull Home Win

The list of Games-To-Rue-Come-May is far too long already; let's not add to it, eh chaps?

It could still all go horribly wrong, but for the moment at least our lot continue to make all the right moves. The threatened second half implosion did not materialise, and instead, after a fourth consecutive League win, we now have to come to terms with the fact that our glorious heroes have discovered some consistency, of all things.

A Cup quarter-final, under the floodlights and in front of a jam-packed White Hart Lane – if that doesn't get your juices flowing my friend you're probably better off at the Emirates. The Star Wars theme that greets the players as they amble out each week may not be everyone's particular brand of cognac, but pre kick-off it certainly makes the hairs on the back of the AANP neck stand to attention, and by the time it blares out this evening I suspect I'll be bouncing off the walls and ready to kill someone with my bare hands.

Fourth place or the FA Cup? AANP suspects we'll manage one or t'other, but the chaps scuttling around the turf each week seem to have the right idea, by prioritising victory one 90 minutes at a time, irrespective of the competition.

Merrily we can gloss over it now, but by golly in the first half we were outplayed.

Never mind the theory that Peter Crouch Can Do Anything – the 2010 product is Gareth Bale. When he sets off on a gallop down the left the world is his oyster. He has within his armoury the capacity to outpace just about any opponent slower than Usain Bolt; play an intelligent, 10-yard diagonal ball infield; or whip in a peach of a cross, as demonstrated for the opener yesterday.

Never mind Saturday's match, the games I find myself looking ruefully back upon are those at home to Stoke, Wolves and Hull, way back in the season of mists and mellow fruitfulness. Oh for those eight points now...

Back to the Sunderland game, and something of a whimper with which to finish the five-game winning streak.

And so begins our biggest week since the last great big important week we had. Two wins from the upcoming three games? The feeling here at AANP Towers is that we're certainly capable of winning at least one of the two home games against l'Arse and Chelski, and with one Aaron Lennon due for return at some point this week this really could tee us up for a ruddy marvellous finale to the season.

Apologies for the tardiness – busy times at AANP Towers. While it would have been nice to add my tuppence worth to the wave of euphoria in the 24 hours immediately after the Arse was spanked, the delay perhaps allows for a more circumspect few musings.

AANP is classifying it a game of one half and two quarters.

Someone at the club shop turn this week into a double DVD box-set with a snappy name, and pronto. Here at AANP Towers we considered our prognosis of four points from the visits of l'Arse and Chelski to be noble but sadly blinded by optimism. After last weekend's debacle, who on God's green earth ever envisaged a reality that saw us take six points from these two games, and with quite such élan?

Watching a game on a pub's big screen I typically squint to make out the match clock in the top left-hand corner, a sure sign that my eyes are failing me. My hindsight however, remains 20-20, thus allowing me to tut and cluck all weekend about the wisdom – or lack thereof – of shuffling the winning pack in order to accommodate the returning Sergeant Wilson.

"It's not the despair, I can take the despair; it's the hope that kills me..."

As a long-time Spurs-supporting chum put it to me yesterday, we're not built for this sort of thing. Let-downs and heartbreaks we can deal with, but this business of every single blasted game coming loaded with significance is just too much to take.

What ho! A most warm welcome back to AANP Towers (which, if particularly eagle-eyed, you may notice has had a lick of paint since last time out). Apologies for the radio silence of recent months, but after a full season of blogging, plus one book (still sitting pretty in the Amazon shop window, yonder) a brief hibernation seemed appropriate.

What ho! A most warm welcome back to AANP Towers (which, if particularly eagle-eyed, you may notice has had a lick of paint since last time out). Apologies for the radio silence of recent months, but after a full season of blogging, plus one book (still sitting pretty in the Amazon shop window, yonder) a brief hibernation seemed appropriate.

Off and running anew then, but in various senses it was if the old season had never finished. The personnel all looked pretty familiar for a start, the sumptuous brand of football rolled out brought back sepia-tinged memories of the finer moments of season 2009/10 - and alas the profligacy of old also made an unwelcome return.

Well first of all, a history lesson: in our first ever European Cup tie, back in 1962, Blanchflower, Mackay et al travelled to Poland to play Gornik, under the auspices of Bill Nick, and promptly found themselves 4-0 down at half-time, before scoring two late goals. Back at the Lane in the return leg we won 8-1.

Well the prophets of doom can stick that in their pipes and smoke it. Admittedly it was not exactly vintage, one-touch, rapier-like Tottenham, but then that was understandable enough - in defence of our heroes, I think if I had simply to catch a bus for £20 million I might be a little more cautious than normal.

Take that, Champions League. Cagey away teams? Ten men behind the ball? Sheer gubbins, cried the merry men of White Hart Lane. We did it the Tottenham way, and while some will probably berate ‘Arry for not adopting a more conservative approach, particularly when two goals ahead, I revelled almost drunkenly in our insistence upon flying forward at every given opportunity.

As if a flight across time-zones was not discombobulating enough, I found myself stepping off the plane to be greeted by the news that Alan Hutton had scored for us, while Jermaine Jenas had put in a decent performance and Robbie Keane had started -all of which left me wondering whether I had flown into a new space-time continuum rather than simply across continents.

A good bourbon. Terminator 2 with surround sound. Scantily clad nubile young women prancing around AANP Towers. Just a selection of some of the finer things in life, which get the juices flowing here at AANP Towers, and to this exalted list can be added an evening kick-off at home to l'Arse.

First things first – in the sprit of Mark Clattenberg's fairly liberal definition of the term "advantage" I thought it apt to mislead the public by using the phrase "In Defence of Mark Clattenberg" when really there is no such thing. Should anyone look towards me for clarification I shall merely shrug, in an exasperating and ever so slightly arrogant manner, which really clarifies nothing for anyone.

How surreal. If there were a worry prior to kick-off it was that following the euphoria of Saturday our heroes might be a little too complacent, and simply stroll through this one. And in truth, they were indeed a tad complacent and most certainly did stroll through – yet it was of little consequence.

Dashed confusing from start to finish. Two points lost or one point gained? What the devil is Gomes playing at? And what the dickens inspired BAE to perform thus?

First Things First: Two Lost or One Gained?

Oh that I were more technically savvy, and had the faintest blinking idea how to set up some sort of voting contraption to gauge popular opinion on whether this was two points dropped or one gained.

Forget the goals, and the red card, and the slightly bonkers refereeing and whatnot – the entire game pales into insignificance besides that quite blisteringly good five minutes just before half-time. Away from home - and down to ten men - our heroes, as they had threatened to do from kick-off, indulged in a lengthy period of the most glorious keep-ball, borne of impeccable technique and worthy of Barcelona.