IT’S the morning after the night before, and many Swindon fans are disappointed not to be waking up with a throbbing head, a sore throat and a cheek-to-cheek smile.

Instead, the only hangover the 30,000 strong Robins army that made the short trip to Wembley are dealing with as the sun sets on another Football League campaign is one of anti-climax.

For a large number of those who trooped down the M4 on Saturday morning, this was the first and possibly only time they will get to see Town at football’s spiritual home.

That said, defeat underneath the iconic arch will taste ever more bitter as the years go by until Swindon next have the chance to walk out in front of a 70,000 plus audience.

The entire day out flashed by like a dream.

From the parade of coaches and cars, flying flags and scarves and harbouring faces full of expectation, right through to the return trip – scarves flown at half mast – this was no ordinary matchday.

Having traipsed up and down the country in recent months – to Stockport on a wet Tuesday night only to be told there was no game, to Colchester for a 3-0 loss, to Brighton and Wycombe, Milton Keynes and Hartlepool – this was the reward.

And there was something of the surreal about seeing Town walk out through towers of fire, in front of giant club crests hanging from oversized inflatables.

It certainly was the biggest stage of all, and how we hoped our boys could put on a similar display to that which dismantled the likes of Leeds, Southampton and Charlton earlier in the season. Frustratingly, it wasn’t the case.

After the first-half stage fright which blighted Town’s performance, it was a relief the Reds didn’t limp through proceedings altogether, and their second-half mini revival typified the attitude instilled in the team since Danny Wilson took over. Although it was a game of few chances, fans were still put through the full mill of emotion.

Never have I witnessed so many people fall so silent so quickly as when Paul Robinson poked home from six yards.

Whether, in that moment, Swindon fans relinquished any real belief is debatable. But from then on in the game became a struggle to be a part of.

However, for 10 glorious seconds it seemed for all the world that that anxiety would find the perfect fairytale tonic in the right foot of Charlie Austin.

Clear through on goal, with just David Forde to beat, Austin had idolatry on the horizon.

As it was, the Wembley surface had other ideas. Sixty thousand hands covered disbelieving eyes.

It was a cruel bobble, and in that instant the words ‘it’s just not our day’ reverberated through Robins’ minds.