Were Benjamin Franklin alive today, he would surely not have uttered his fatalistic phrase concerning death and taxes. For a start, the Turritopsis nutricula is speculated to be an organism capable of indefinite rejuvenation, and thus theoretically immortal. Apparently.

No, he would have sought a more reliable phenomenon. Step forward Hull City. Perpetually listless at home, perpetual motion on the road. If the Blackpool home defeat was a dispiriting revisiting of the lower points of 2010/11, we at least have the warming memory of a victory that called to mind last season’s happier days.

City needed this, too. Grumbles on the opening day become manifest displeasure following the Macclesfield debacle; the season was a very long way away from crisis, but it needed something to offer reassurance.

Offering us that reassurance on a pleasant late-summer day in Suffolk were: Gulácsi; Rosenior, Hobbs, Chester, Dudgeon; Koren, Cairney, Brady, McKenna, Evans; Fryatt. So, Nigel Pearson’s response to two goalless outings was…4-5-1. Eyebrows were raised, even among the manager’s admirers. It just felt counterintuitive. As usual, Nigel knew best.

On duty for Ipswich was Damien Delaney, thoughtfully serenaded a couple of times during the afternoon, and on the bench was Keith Andrews, ultimate recipient of a less adulatory reception.

First though, Ipswich’s organisation of away fans. For those who’ve not visited Portman Road, we’re housed in the left hand portion of an upper tier down the side. At the rear of the stand lurk the thick metal structures of the stand; the view is poor and it feels somehow claustrophobic and unwelcoming. £31 is a despicably excessive charge for any football match; to demand this for a second tier fixture with a rotten viewing position is a loathsome act.

Yet…there’s a powerful mitigating circumstance we feel obliged to report. Upon entry, stewards invited us to “sit at the front, go to the back if you want to stand”. Good deal. We want to stand, so this kind invitation was accepted…whereupon someone sat down behind us. Sigh. Up came a steward, who clarified “I meant right at the back”. There was no room at the inn, until a police officer directed us to a small section of the stand that was cordoned off, for no obvious reason, in which we were allowed to stand, caper and generally make merry without interruption. Well done Ipswich.

There was comparatively little about which to make merry at the outset, however. Both sides looked a little hesitant, perhaps because both suffered League Cup embarrassment in midweek. It wasn’t exactly a dull affair as both sides were looking to play passing football on a beautiful pitch, but goalmouth action was limited.

The first opening came for City, when a piercing raid down the right freed the forward-thinking Rosenior – his drilled cross narrowly evading McKenna, arriving just too late to stretch a leg out. Meanwhile, Ipswich’s major threat was from set pieces, against which City struggled throughout the first half.

There was fun in the stands by now, at least. Off to our right is a stand behind the goal populated by Ipswich fans, the lower half of which appears to be their standing area. We could see activity in there, but heard virtually nothing. It seems Portman Road is another of those grounds where sound doesn’t transmit itself to different stands too well – so we doubt they heard us either, but we were having fun. City were in the game, if behind on chances, but it was an away game, and a rousing ten-minute ovation of Nigel Pearson’s black and army presented a challenge to larynges and palms alike.

Chances began arriving too. Smith headed a corner just over for them, a 20 yard effort from Brady was safely collected by Stockdale, Martin flashed a shot over Gulásci’s bar by not very much – it was a getting-better sort of game.

As the interval neared, Gulásci saved well from a well-struck Bowyer effort – the subsequent corner caused alarm when not won, but Delaney headed over. At the other end, a Cairney corner was flicked on at the near post and Fryatt was inches away from successfully sneaking in at the far post to tap home.

Delaney came even closer moments later. A deflected shot horribly wrong-footed Gulásci, but he nimbly changed direction and manager to palm the ball behind before it endangered the goalline, and the resulting corner was met thumpingly by Damien Delaney – it looked goalbound, but instead flicked the top of the crossbar on the way over.

And that was the first half – an open and attractive match, with City more expansive than their 4-5-1 suggested may be the case, while Ipswich were creating more chances but unable to penetrate and a little over-reliant on set-pieces. That said, many – this observer included – would probably have taken a draw. It’d be a useful point, get us off the mark and up the table, and not a bad return for a long trek south.

Then the second half started, and the only question became whether Ipswich manage to hold on. It was not quite a transformation, for City had already been playing quite well with appealing passing and movement, but there was a notable increase in tempo and quality. And it became a little too much for Ipswich.

Koren was the first to try for the game’s opener, with his meatily-hit shot forcing a good save from Stockdale. Chester was next to try when meeting a corner well, and Koren – very much in this game – had another go, again prompting a smart intervention from Stockdale.

Most of the game was now taking place in the Ipswich half, to the irritation of their becalmed support and the obvious frustration of their bewildered players. The architect of this? Step forward Tom Cairney, controlling the midfield with an intelligence belying his youth and a graceful technique that would make Ian Bell recognise a kindred spirit. With Fryatt a serial nuisance up front and Ipswich struggling to cope with Brady, Koren and Evans’ late runs, City were on top and playing some very entertaining football. Anyone who thinks Nigel Pearson is a boring manager, please take note.

On came Keith Andrews for the disappointing Mark Kennedy, to some half-hearted jeers from the travelling City fans – a pretty dismal 467 in number, incidentally. Quality over quantity, and all that.

We sensed the winner that would turn an encouraging afternoon into a great one, too. It came shortly after a Leadbitter drive that, from our angle, looked in all the way flew past the post. Fryatt ran onto a lofted ball on the right that seemed to catch a few too many home players in overly advanced positions. He collected possession about thirty-five yards from goal with only one marked, immediately ran into the area (smart), turned inside onto his left, the cut back onto this right, paused briefly to chortle at the utter puzzlement of his tormented adversary, than cracked a low shot hard past Stockdale.

Mayhem erupted in the stands as Fryatt languidly jogged over to receive his acclaim, and perhaps offer a little “told you so” in the wake of the criticism that fell his way during the opening week. As febrile celebrations rocked our little corner of Portman Road, we consider ourselves told.

Ipswich could hardly say it hadn’t been coming, though with 12 minutes left and with City’s superiority in possession and territory not really yielding too many clear openings they must have thought they’d got through it.

Nick Barmby, who looked ready to come on at the time Fryatt was beguiling Smith, had his introduction delayed while Nigel Pearson waited to see what Paul Jewell’s reaction would be. It was to withdraw Bowyer, who’d had no answer to Cairney in the second half, in favour of Nathan Ellington. Ipswich quickly had a chance to equalise when a superb cross found Martin at the far post and in a troubling amount of space, but his rather lame header picked out only Gulásci’s breadbasket.

Barmby was then brought on, with Fryatt withdrawn to a coruscating ovation and City got on with the ugly job of winning the game. Cairney picked up the game’s first and only caution for a superbly inept foul on Carson – and let’s use this as a quick chance to note that referee McDermid had a good afternoon himself, unobtrusively running what was admittedly a fairly straightforward game to officiate.

Mclean ambled on for the tiring Brady with three minutes left, then Adebola (looking unfeasibly gigantic and scary) replaced Koren as all attempts at anything other negativity were pragmatically abandoned by City. Then with three of the four minutes of injury time remaining, a horrible moment when an excellent Edwards shot from outside the area had the City keeper flying vainly across his goal…we awaited that sickening sight and sound of a late leveller denying us…the ball flew just wide, and the points were ours.

Well! What a difference finally getting to play away makes. Two defeats at home, one a shade unlucky, the other inexcusably awful, can be forgotten. This is NOT a bad side. We have a good manager. We’ll score goals, win games, watch good young players working hard to make a name for themselves, and let the League table take care of itself – because really, nothing in the world is certain.