IF you’ve seen the film Planes, Trains and Automobiles, you’ll sympathise with my plight in Austria so far.

I chose to base myself in Graz based on the two games Wanderers had confirmed with me a few weeks ago.

The club hadn’t settled on a hotel or training base, or at least they weren’t telling me about it, but when they announced they’d be staying in Pallau a quick look at Google Maps and a little research into the train system had me believing it should be no problem travelling back and forth.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

As I hurtled towards Hungary at 100 miles per hour at 6.45am yesterday morning, I started to question a few things.

To get to Fehring I had to pass through a place called Halt. Unfortunately, we didn’t stop because it would have made a cracking picture.

From Fehring I headed for Hartberg – just six miles away from Pallau – where I was confident I could get a taxi the rest of the way.

Hartberg is a lovely town. I later found a great cafe that serves schnitzel and a bottled drink called Happy Day to which I’m becoming quite addicted.

It is not, however, well known for its taxis. They don’t need them here, apparently, but as I started to panic I spotted a bus that had “Pallau” on the front and dived on.

Pallau must be German for “White Knuckle Ride” because by the end of the journey, I had texted everyone in my family with burial instructions and recorded a goodbye message for my sons when they found the twisted mass of metal at the base of the mountain.

By the time I got to training I was shaking like a leaf.

It was good to see the lads again, though. I had a good chat with a rejuvenated Darren Pratley, who believes he has now done his quota of interviews for the season – but I know otherwise.

Ben Amos also paid for being the last person off the pitch and was forced to sit down for 10 minutes while I recalled my horrific journey to him.

He’s a very bright lad – I can see Bolton fans getting to like him – but I’ll give him about two more interviews and he’ll be sick to death of recalling his Manchester United days.

The return journey was made all the more entertaining by a massive thunderstorm. But I did stop for Schnitzel – when in Rome and all that – and got myself a fridge magnet, which is basically the reason I’m here.