The first half on Saturday was the best the team had played in a while - not hard considering the previous efforts. Worryingly, it seems as though it took a bit of luck to change the side around. If Craigan had not felt ill in the morning, chances are Corrigan would still have been left looking shaky at right back.
Instead, Paul Quinn - who looks as accomplished now as Hammell did when he broke into the side - came in as full back allowing Corrigan to return to his preferred position in the middle.
Was that piece of fortune what changed our luck? Maybe - it is hard to tell from a foreign city! What will be interesting to see though is whether Butcher will keep the defence the same for the Thistle game.
All the supposed rules of football suggest that Quinn must retain his place but I have a bad feeling Butcher will tinker.
By half time on Saturday I was convinced a 0-1 reversal was on the cards. Lasley hitting the woodwork - I let out an involuntary 'oooh' even though the commentry I was watching lacked the white background to suggest we had scored - seemed to hint that it just was not to be our day.
The BBC text commentary seemed to get slower and slower and I was refreshing the vidiprinter scores page at such a rate my eyes were beginning to hurt.
Eventually I was alerted to our goal through an MSN contact - but I still cheered when the BBC reported the glorious details a good five minutes later.
One up against ten men - I made the silly mistake of assuming we had it in the bag. I wasn't even sharp enough to spot the equaliser myself, a Dundee United fan had the pleasure of pointing it out to me. This just about reduced me to tears and for the next fifteen minutes I resorted to begging in front of the computer screen.
Everyone else who could see me at this point must have been contemplating calling a psychiatric ward. The clock ticked on and on and eventually the vidiprinter answered my prayers. A heroic leap and yell shattered the computing room silence and I legged it outside unable to stand the dying minutes via the internet.
I returned to find we had managed to hold on this time and instantly made plans to go for a beer. The United fan was only too eager to join me to drown his sorrows. Will this become a regular occurrence? I hope not...I don't think my nails can take any more!