Dean Gripton and I shuffle out of a jam-packed St Andrews following a last gasp winner for the Bluenoses. We're heading towards the Spotted Dog, a CAMRA Heritage Pub, in Digbeth, along with hoards of cheery, jubilant, beer-fuelled fans. It's a family-run watering hole which specialises in traditional Irish music. We share a post match scoop with Wigan fan Keith, who's not too downhearted or disillusioned after an encouraging, positive display by a cash-strapped Latics. Their young flying wingers, Dion Rankine and Silko Thomas could catch pigeons, and will find out a few League One defenders this season.
There's standing room only on the 18.07 Cross Country train to Edinburgh. There are no direct trains to Nottingham this evening, unless you catch a replacement bus service to Coleshill Parkway. We've bigger fish to fry in Derby. There's no better place to while away the time whilst waiting for a connecting train to Nottingham, than a quick drink at The Brunswick, a railway tavern terrace, a five minute walk away from Derby train station. A Porter ale goes down a treat.
It's 5 a.m. on Sunday morning and The The's jaw-dropping 1981 debut album, Soul Mining, is blasting out on the shop floor as I mark up the Sunday papers. I'm so distracted by the brilliance and genius of band leader Matt Johnson and his haunting voice, that a few folk in Arnold might receive a Daily Mirror this morning instead of their beloved Daily Mail. The afternoon is spent knocking up episode one of Season 21 of The Groundhopper, whilst listening to back to back weekend shows from Radcliffe and Maconie on 6Music.
It's Tuesday teatime and I'm on the 58 bus from Arnold to Nottingham. It's a testing week for 'Norris Cole' as I'm clocking up big hours at the paper shop, whilst the gaffer 'Chippy' Fryer relaxes on a Mediterranean cruise in southern France and northern Spain.
I alight the bus on Parliament Street. My hair is a bloody mess. Mr Eko, my local Bosnian barber, will be closed by now. My mop needs a chop. I poke my head around the door of The Cutfather, a Turkish scissor-hands. The guy says he can squeeze me in before closing time. Mr Eko will blow his top the next time he sees me.
I feel as fresh as a daisy, half an hour later, as I breeze up past the wrought iron sign that says Kings Walk. I saw a guy on twitter, recently, raving about an independant pizza place called Slice 'n Brew, which looks out onto Trinity Square, a vibrant area in our city centre, which is bustling with late night shoppers. I graze on a cloudy lemonade as I wait for my mouth-watering Soppresso Salami pizza, glazed in honey, spices and garlic. It's a ten from Len.
I walk off my heavy tea by ambling up to Hyson Green, via Nottingham Trent University, onto Waverley Street. I do miss driving, due to my dodgy 'mince pie', but you get to see so much more when on a stroll or on a bus or train.
It's £6 on the gate at Radford's Selhurst Street ground. I'm fleeced a couple of quid for some raffle tickets by amusing volunteer 'ASBO.' Bloody hell, 'Shoey' the physio has clocked me. "Jesus wept Sticky, you're the last person we want to see down here, when we've lost the last five matches in a row" ... lol. There's time for some small talk with 'Big Glenn' as 'Happy' by Pharrell Williams is played on the bar sound system. I take up a position on the nearside terracing with 'Faggsy.'
Pinxton have a good following, who are a friendly and knowledgeable crowd. They take an early lead with a header from the impressive 7 jacket. They are two to the good early on in the second half. I'm on the opposite side of the ground to 'Shoey' but can still hear his words ringing in my ears - "that bloody Jonah is here again." The Pheasants look dead in the water.
Cometh the man, cometh the hour. Crowd favourite Jevon Seaton steps up to the plate. I've watched this lad since he was a teenager at Unity FC, a club a mate of mine used to run. It amazes me that no manager has taken a punt on the lad, higher up the Pyramid. He restores parity with two stunning strikes. Only one team is going to win this see-saw game of football. Substitute, Aboubacar Sylla, scores a beauty at the death - the moment is captured beautifully and skillfully by local amateur photographer, Steve McKeown, who is also a keen supporter of Tranmere Rovers. I clench my fist and cheer as the ball beats the outstretched hands of the 'keeper before nestling into the corner of the net. Post match pints are had in Lillie Langtry's.
My blood pressure is at boiling point as I trudge through the doors of Western Europe's worst supermarket. Tesco Carlton never ever fail to disappoint when it comes to incompetence or buffoonery. I challenge a store assistant on arrival as there are no baskets on the other side of the automatic swing doors. It's a sponsored walk to find one.
The nincompoops now charge 30p for a carrier bag. It's a crushing blow to Ms Moon's piggy bank, as she has been nicking 'em for years. I vowed never to buy a bag again after an incident in the self service area recently. I proudly pack my goods in my rucksack, smiling like an assassin, as I exit the store 30 pence better off. 'Petty Palms', I know.
In Emmerdale Farm news, Moira's stuck the nut on Caleb’s wife - the Scots love a 'Glasgow Kiss', and Jimmy is still as thick as a brick. In Corrie, Chesney's front room resembles a scene from The Waltons. God knows what they'll do when the quads ask for a sleepover. Where's Schmeichel the Great Dane going to sleep?
I'm dog tired as I shut up shop on Friday evening. I'm not feeling it as I freshen up at home before heading into town. I grab a Five Guys burger and call in at the Barrel Drop, on Hurts Yard, for a quick half of Magpie Brewery's Coconut Summer, who are housed close to Notts County's ground.
I join hundreds of middle-aged gig goers in the queue at the iconic Midlands music venue, Rock City. The The today released their first album of new songs, in a quarter of a century. I don't bother with a drink as I watch in awe the band play and Matt Johnson sing. He engages with the crowd, big-upping Nottingham, where his lead guitarist is from. They finish off a two hour set with the stunning Uncertain Smile and Giant. It lifts my spirits after a tiring week on my feet.
The 3 a.m. alarm call is unheard of, unless I'm flying off to 'the Reef.' I'm acting shop manager all weekend, so need to be on my toes. With the mizzle and drizzle hanging in the air I'm expecting a quieter morning. Nothing could be further from the truth as the general public of Arnold turn out in their droves on Front Street.
I'm fagged out after a 9 hour shift and a 55 hour week - get out the violins folks. I drag myself up Mapperley Top for a spot of al fresco lunch at Deli-Icious. It's only a ten minute wander to Gedling's Plains Road ground. Ms Moon has cried off due to the deteriorating weather conditions or maybe it's because she's watching Season 10 of Below Deck.
The ground is deserted on my arrival. I sit in the clubhouse listening to some Coalville fans discussing the state of their town. I do my customary circuit of the ground. I bump into Ben Marsh, a volunteer from Carlton Town. Check out their media on You Tube; he's raised the bar by some distance and plays a pivotal role.
Legendary former Gedling MW and West Bridgford FC manager Chris Marks is here. 'Marksy' is a cracking lad. I pick his brain as he knows the Notts Non League scene like the back of his hand. The rest of the game is spent with Chris 'Skid' Widdowson, a season ticket holder and local resident. He's also a talented artist. It's a competitive game of football, which if anything the Miners edge. The visitors share the spoils. They still have a large following despite dropping three leagues due to a change of ownership.
Man of the Match: Ross McCaughey, 36 yrs old, and still a class act.
Attendance: 100 plus
Credit to Steve McKeown for some of the Radford photos. Thanks mate
Brilliant nick Steve burrows
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