Welcome to the world of the globe-trotting Carlisle United supporter. Thanks to the wonderful world of the t'interweb, or United World as it so confidently declares itself, I have been able to follow the ups and ups of Carlisle for the past 14 months, whilst travelling around the world. It began with unreliable links in India, listening to the final few games of last season, then began in earnest this season with 2-4am commentaries in Sydney. As I write I am anticipating an 11am nail biter against Millwall from somewhere on the eastern slopes of the Andes in Argentina. I´m now looking at places that should be enough of a distraction in themselves with a view to how reliable their internet connection will be come kick off. To the outsider it seems inexplicable behaviour, ´get a life´would be a fair comment. But it´s not as simple as that, as any passionate supporter would know.

One explanation for this behaviour is that the longer it is since I last actually attended a game (Leyton Orient away, February 2007, quite dull but a very good pastie), the more, dare I say romantic the whole event becomes. I´ve long since forgotten the cold and windy terraces, the images of sleet blowing through the glare of the East Stand´s floodlights and the winces of seeing a sliding tackle that ends with a buttock burning slide over the edge of the pitch and into the advertising hoardings. But the passion, the fears, the hopes and the disbelief are magnified; made all the greater by the hopelessness of not being there, the sense that if I were there I could actually do something, anything, to help.

Looking at the CUFC online messageboard I know I´m not alone. Usernames include Vancouverite, Expatinbermuda, Cufcaussiebranch, Perthblue, Aussieblue and Nzblue, and I´m sure they´re not the only ones. You can be sure that when it´s 3pm at Brunton Park, 1am in Sydney, 11am in Santiagio and 7am in Vancouver, people all around the world are logging on, plugging in and sitting back and relying on the ever-entertaining and rarely-informative Degsy to give them their fix. And it can't be understated how important that fix is.

Yes, the football is the main event. But alongside that are the little snippets of home; the accent, the references to long forgotten places, especially when the commentary goes 'around the grounds' and we get a welcome reminder that one man and his dog are still standing in the sideways rain watching rugby league in Aspatria. If we´re lucky we get to hear the news or the weather and hear words which in themselves sound unbelieveably exotic; Cleater Moor, Aglionby, Bitts Park… ok so maybe not exotic, but certainly reminders of home.

It´s a strange world, obsessive and lonely. How can you be 10,000 miles from home, possibly with golden beaches or sexy salsa ourtside the window, yet allow yourself to be transported back to Brunton Park? It´s hard to explain but I think it works a little bit like watching a soap opera. It's disconnected to your real life, yet familiar and somehow essential, a bit like seeing Kylie working as a mechanic on Neighbours - all your instincts were telling you it couldn't really be true, but there was just something so sexy about seeing her in those dungarees that you had to keep on watching.

But following Carlisle online is not like watching Neighbours…that would make Degsy Kylie and no one's imagination could stretch to that. It's more like the Archers, a rural radio series with unbelievable story lines and Bert Fry commentating. I have even vainly attempted to contact Degsy to request a South American style goal celebration, you know the one: 'GOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLLLLL', but I fear he might begin to hack so violently at the end of it that he might not last the full 90 minutes and have to be replaced by Jeff Thorpe.

I have been lucky enough in the past few months to see some far flung games. I saw Vietnam versus Qatar in the Asian Cup in Hanoi, a couple of Sydney FC games and just this Saturday I saw Boca Juniors beat Newell´s Old Boys 2-1 at La Bombonera. (Incidentally the best atmosphere by far was at Vietnam). But all the while it's the Carlisle games I've looked forward to, especially as this season heads to a terrifying climax.

I sit there with several pages open, United World's 'Live' thingy with all the stats and commentary, BBC´s live scores, Sportinglife's live league tables and the CUFC Online match link. I flit nervously between them all, waiting, hoping and hopeless. I know I´m the only one in a room full of people who may well leap into the air with delight or fall on the floor in horror at any moment. Often there's a delay when a goal goes in while the ever reliable Degsy fails to announce who actually scored, and then it's back to the screen, assessing, working out the maths, praying that the link won't drop out.

It´s fair to say that over these past few months, the delight at not having to stand in all weathers and fork out 20 quid for the pleasure has been replaced by a romantic notion of a radio series that could yet have a very happy ending. Like any good series, it suspends disbelief and keeps you guessing right up until the end and knowing Carlisle, it'll be a cliffhanger all the way. Will it all turn out alright in the end? Will John Ward get the girl? Will the baying crowd go home happy? But then I remember that it is real, that the script hasn´t been written yet, and when it comes to it, nothing will beat being there at BP if we do manage to win promotion to the Championship. There may well be avalanches in the Andes if that happens.