Barmy stuff. Entertaining, but indisputably barmy.

Our new team formation, which insists on width both sides of the park and a heavy load for the potentially outnumbered central midfield duo, immediately seemed likely to provide the basis for plenty of goalscoring opportunities, but at the risk of allowing the opposition time and space to put our defence under sustained pressure. But that wasn't the story against Cheltenham yesterday - or, at least, that was only half the story. We did create a medley of attacking decoration, but the problem defensively was not that we were put under regular bouts of pressure. Rather, the problem was individual errors and old-fashioned slack marking.

So if the glass be half-empty, the story is "same old City": plenty of ideas, but when the heat is on, our players are sloppy, while the less talented opposition just gets stuck in. If the glass be half-full, the story is that Mr Taylor needs only to sharpen up defensive concentration and then our attacking verve and fighting spirit will be enough to slam most of this Division flat (and, with 8 in 3, we are, after all, still safely on target to score 100 League goals this season).

The glass is half-full and about to be topped up to the brim with foaming ale by Paul Robinson's favourite smiling buxom barmaid if Justin Whittle resumes his rightful role as first name on our teamsheet, beginning at Cambridge on the coming Bank Holiday.

On a soft if slightly breezy summer's day we kicked off in the usual 4-4-2:

Musselwhite
Thelwell Hinds Joseph Delaney
Price Ashbee Green Elliott
Allsop Burgess

Both teams began brightly, though without serious threat to either goal, but the Tigers rapidly wrested dominance from the familiar bunch of ungainly hoofers up from the cider-infused lee of the Cotswolds. And within ten minutes we led. Delaney, Price and Alsopp had combined well to force Book into a decent block, but shortly afterwards Thelwell and Price linked up down the right to provide an opportunity for a well-aimed cross by the elegant former Spurs man; Alsop nudged the ball on deftly at the near post and Elliott, arriving cunningly late at the back post, headed it into the back of the net. The well-loved cartwheel followed and - he hoped, we hoped - the Ulsterman's quiet start to the campaign was at an end.

We now proceeded to do to Chelters pretty much what we did to Darleau a fortnight ago: that is, torment them with our effortless superiority, and then let them equalise.

Thelwell drifts in a cute little nine-iron on the breeze, but it spins just beyond the frame of the goal. Alssop, looking a great deal more industrious today than in any Tiger display so far, sprints clear to measure up Book for a one-on-one, only for the play to be hauled back by the witless Laws for a free-kick to us deep and harmless in our own half. Half an hour gone, we are on top, and comfortably so, as the visitors' comedy back four looks as uncertain as any troop playing in our fair city has for a good while, and, as we thought, it would surely be a long time in the future before we would witness anything quite so fragile again. In fact, it would be less than quarter of an hour, and it would our very own amber-and-black defence that would step up to the plate, and cave in.

Cheltenham levelled it on 31. A ball was trundled through the middle, the muscular frontman Damien Spencer charged through, dribbled round the Muss all too easily, and rolled the ball into the net. And defence and midfield avoided glances that were both guilty and accusing. I'm really not sure who to blame, so I'll take most, if not all, of Ashbee and Green, for allowing the through ball to be threaded all-too-easily, and Hinds and Joseph, for being AWOL when Spencer cruised into acres of space straight through the centre of our defence.

So far, so Darlo, and the immediate indications were that we could imperiously dismiss this temporary setback, and go on to thrash Chelters just as we had Darlo. Elliott and Delaney executed a perfect one-two down the left, allowing our eager young left-back to surge clear and slam in a shot that Book was delighted to palm clear for a corner. A second corner immediately followed, and then a stramash, and the visitors seemed to be hanging on with increasing desperation and improbability.

Whereupon the game went mad.

39 minutes. Chelters break down their right, where Delaney is beaten, the cross reaches the far side of the pitch, where Thelwell is not in position, the ball is whipped back into the middle where Spencer is ahead of our two central defenders and he toe-ends the ball into the net. 1-2.

41 minutes. The Muss tries to kick clear but simply succeeds in lamely granting possession to Cheltenham, well inside our half. They don't mess about - they punt it forwards, and Spencer cruises in to divert the ball past the hapless Muss. 1-3. I think it was not offside, though others may disagree: it was a shambles of a performance by our goalkeeper, whose kicking is poor and who, overweight and flat-footedly unagile, is developing a terminal case of the Seamans.

42 minutes. Oh, we needed to strike back, and we did. A ball from the right lofted to the back post was knocked square by the allert and inteligent A'sopp, allowing Price to demonstrate impressive predatory instincts as he slid in to force the ball home amid ramshackle defending. 2-3.

With fully four minutes added time, there was still scope for more crazy up-and-down scampering about, but the whistle finally went on a bewildering period of football.

And things didn't calm down any after the break.

A high-quality knock-down by Burgess provided an opportunity for Alsoop, but his shot, taken awkwardly just above the half-volley, struck the top of the crossbar before bouncing to safety. But the fast-improving Aussie frontman was not long denied. On 52 precise passing down the right by the excellent duo of Thelwell and Price ended in a high-quality delivery to Alspo's feet, and he had time for a touch before getting his head over the ball and driving a low right-foot shot into the net. 3-3. And the last time we clawed back a two-goal deficit was … when exactly?

The absurd Bobby Gould now brought on Bob Taylor for the visitors, prompting the usual hilarious pension book/ zimmer frame quips from the majority of the crowd, while old-timers among us put head in hands and groaned apprehensively, aware that even today Bob Hatton and Derek Hales would be a very good bet to score against City and that Taylor is exactly the sort of cunning old goal-poacher who is likely to punish defensive slackness. And there was plenty more of that on show from our creaky back five. A cross to the back post was sliced into the side netting by an alarmingly unattended Chelt. Part of the story is that our defenders were getting little cover from the midfield, Ashbee excepted: but part of the story, and in my view a bigger part, is that on an individual basis they were playing carelessly and without conviction. It was noticeable than Cheltenham tried to direct most of their attacks down their right, to target Delaney, but young Damien was no more culpable yesterday afternoon than anyone else.

Still, our attack was back in business now. Both front men supported by, in particular, Price were presenting a series of problems for the hard-worked visiting defence, and there was every prospect of a winner. Whittle replaced Hinds: and, to add urgency, Keates came on for Green. Price claimed a penalty - not given, rightly so (I think). Then Burgess shot wide after preparatory work by Price's hand - the offence hopelessly overlooked by referee Laws.

Forrester for Elliott, with ten to go. Zippy running and passing from the new man. A Keates corner, a Price header … shovelled off the goal-line by a Chelt as Forrester closes in. We are better: but they've long ago twigged we are vulnerable if they choose greater ambition than simply sitting back, and a McCann free-kick flies over the bar courtesy of a Muss fingertip. The added time is a full five minutes, and each of them proves eventful, as our defence attempts to gift a couple of points to the puzzled visitors. Joseph above all is horribly jittery, not robust enough and needs to improve without delay if he is to be worth his place. And much the same is true of Hinds, who shone in pre-season but not since, and who looks disturbingly uncomfortable with the hurly-burly of bottom Division defending.