Carlton Town 3-0 Cleethorpes Town

It's Sunday 27th July and I'm back in Scotland where last season's blog ended. We're on the A96 adjacent to RAF Lossiemouth, where tomorrow the world's biggest buffoon, Donald J Trump, will be flying in for a summit with Sir Keir Starmer. Crazy Steve makes a right hand turn as he drops down the gears. We're about to visit Highland League club Lossiemouth FC. As Crazy picks up speed he can't get the car in gear. His clutch is kaput. The Scottish tour is curtailed.

I scratch my head as Crazy rummages around in his glove compartment trying to unearth his breakdown cover documents. I'm 500 miles away from home and on media duties early on Tuesday. Crazy and Little Al jump into a tow truck as his Hyundai is taken to the scrapyard in the sky - they will stay the night with friends in Turriff, who we met yesterday at a game between Buckie Thistle and Nairn. I have a day and a half to get home on my Jack Jones.

Scott's Taxis fleece me for £22 for the five mile journey to nearby Elgin. I reconvene in a Wetherspoons pub in the centre of town, where I wolf down a huge American breakfast whilst planning how the chuffing hell I'm going to get home. I hatch a plan to stay in Aberdeen for the night, as I've already booked a room for £35 at the Premier Inn.

Before departing by train I take a stroll up to Elgin City's Borough Briggs ground. It's a beauty folks and has two wonderful old stands. I make a mental note to return and watch a game. It's hosing it down in Aberdeen when I arrive at just after 3 pm. I go on a five hour mini pub crawl, avoiding D J Trump like the plague. A drunken old Scotsman, who's slouched in his seat at a CAMRA Heritage pub called The Grill, asks me who is the greatest ever player to pull on a Nottingham Forest shirt. "That's an easy one pal   ..... John Robertson." He argues that Trevor Francis was a better player. "Goodnight pal", I say, as I edge near to the exit door. 

The hotel is packed with journalists from around the world, who await the visit of President Trump. If only they knew that I work for the Media too ... lol. Earlier, at the Queen Victoria, England's Women's team won the Euros final. The winning penalty was met with a stony silence in a packed out bar.

I arrive back in Nottingham the following day at 5pm. It's a decent effort by Scot Rail. The less said about Cross Country Trains the better. I'm looking forward to a revisit across the border next April where Edinburgh, Dundee and Aberdeen are on the agenda.

It's been a long hot summer that I've thoroughly enjoyed; particularly the break from football. I've parked my backside at Trent Bridge a few times for County Championship games and the T20 Blast. It's been pleasing on the eye (well the good one) to see the development of Freddie McCann, Liam Patterson-White and Jack Haynes. I'm booked in for a few days at The Oval in mid September when the title decider takes place between Surrey and Notts.

I've been to a few games already this season. I ticked off Bromley FC a few weeks back after spending a few days in Hastings, Rye and London, where I ticked off 16 CAMRA Heritage pubs. The following week I was told to 'eff off' as I squeezed through the turnstile at Radford FC's Selhurst Street ground. They were up against another team I like, Stapleford Town. As The Smiths said in 1984  'Stop me if you've heard this one before'  .. yep Radford were 1-0 up and looking in control, suddenly they're 2-1 down and it's game over. I'm out the gate before I catch Big Glenn's eye  ... lol.

It's Tuesday evening and I'm alighting the 25 bus opposite the Nags Head on Carlton Road. I dive into Oceans fish bar for a chippy tea, as Ms Moon is down in Brighton, working. I'm back on the 25 bus an hour later. I jump off at Mapperley shops and take a wander down Plains Road.

I've already viewed Gedling Miners Welfare a few times this season and have liked what I've seen. Their 17 year old striker Joel Nana Tweneboah Kodua Stevens is absent tonight as he is on trial at League One, Reading. It's going to be expensive to get his name on the back of a replica shirt.

I stand with Faggsy, Jon Gilbert and Keyworth legend Chris Frame. The game isn't all that. A late Pinxton goal is enough for the visitors to take home the three points. I manage a pint from the Magpie Brewery at the Old Volunteer on the way home.

It's a quiet night in with a Tesco pizza on Wednesday evening after a 12 hour shift at MSR News in Arnold. I'm worn out having handed out copies of the Daily Mail all day. I watch 20 minutes of Rangers (that's enough for anyone), followed by Fenerbahce v Benfica, Jose's last game and finally the eventful shoot-out at Blundell Park, where Grimsby Town pull off a giant-killing.

Ms Moon is back on Friday afternoon. We have a couple of drinks at the Fox and Grapes in Sneinton. I notice they have a Black Iris beer on. I presume that it's a cask ale. Ms Moon returns from the bar with a face like thunder. She slams a can on the table  .. "£7.75 that flipping cost" - I can't 'arf pick em folks.

We dine at Raymond's on Stoney Street, opposite the Angel Microbrewery. It's a tapas restaurant that we've visited before and thoroughly enjoyed. I've saved enough pennies for a repeat visit. We enjoy some crab flatbread, crispy potatoes and salt-aged sirloin. It's washed down with white wine. I go as white as a sheet when presented with the bill.

On Saturday morning I have a couple of coffees and place my football bet before venturing out on the front to do some weeding. Ms Moon very kindly drops me off on Emerys Road as I don't feel like walking after my foot swelled up following another 12 hour shift at the land of the Daily Mail on Friday.

I can hear DJ Dan's set as clear as a bell following an upgrade to the sound system. 'Frankly Mr Shankly' by The Smiths is the tune of the day. I pay £10 on the gate. Today is a First Qualifying Round FA Cup tie against Northern Premier League Cleethorpes Town, who not only play a level above, but also turned over the Mighty Millers twice last season without breaking sweat.

Rumours are rife around Stoke Lane amongst the gossip mongers,sewing circle and Daily Mail readers (Edward) that Sticky's favourite, 'The Carlton Cattermole', is AWOL at a Coldplay concert at Wembley Stadium. If this is true it will be headline news in tomorrow's Non League Paper and Hello magazine.

I get chatting to a Nottingham bus driver, Bart, who is wearing a Radcliffe Olympic football shirt. The club sponsor is post-punk duo Sleaford Mods. I wander over to the far side of the ground to take my place in the 'Malc Brown Stand.' There's a no show in the Cleethorpes dugout from their gobshite manager Craig Rouse. It's no surprise to hear that he has a touchline ban. The clown is stood under the camera tower just a few yards away from Malc and I.

The game is played at a high tempo from the off. Ashley Chambers gives the Millers the lead after nipping in, rounding the keeper and scoring with a left foot shot from a tight angle. Khyle Sargent, who has been nothing short of magnificent this season, makes it 2-0 with a terrific header from a pinpoint Niall Davie free kick. The visitors are shellshocked and Rouse is raging. The Owls fight back. Brave blocks, last ditch tackles and a clearance off the line keep the score intact. It's been a breathtaking 45 minutes of football.

The mood in the clubhouse is upbeat, but these are proper, savvy football folk down here who are well aware that any complacency can't set, in particularly after a 98th minute equaliser was conceded at Long Eaton on Bank Holiday Monday. I didn't speak to Ms Moon for ten minutes, on the way home, when she said "it's only a game babe" as we exited the ground. DJ Dan completes his set with some Northern Soul classics.

Carlton see out the game superbly in the second half. Chambers puts the game to bed with a sublime goal of the highest quality. He curls a shot from 20 yards out that looks to be missing the upright, only for it to catch the wind and draw back in squeezing under the angle of the post and bar. There's been an edge to the game but it's all handshakes after  - even the rarely humble Rouse congratulates Carlton on his socials.

Attendance: 230

Man of the Match: Ash Chambers

Song of the Week: JONNY, Monster Florence

Beer of the Week: Scorching Haze, Black Iris

Dumbarton 3-1 Annan Athletic

It's Thursday 24th April and I'm propping the bar up at a laidback craft ale haunt called Junkyard, that's tucked away down a ginnel off Weekday Cross, in Nottingham city centre. It's the beginning of five days away from the 'Media World' (paper shop). I sink a couple of beauties from the Pressure Drop stable, a brewery based in Tottenham, north London.

I make the short walk across the road to Pelham Street, where Nottingham's coolest music venue, The Bodega, is. My ticket is scanned on the door. Tony Mac is AWOL this evening. Well actually he's just around the corner at Fletchers restaurant, wining and dining with his wife. He's about to miss a treat on the music front.

Noisy, shouty, left-wing issues-based, Teesside collective, Benefits are in town, showcasing their new album Constant Noise. The right wing Press have been dishing out rave reviews in their Tory rags. Charismatic lead singer, Kingsley Hall, is at his angry best. He even takes a swipe at Sir Keir Starmer, which takes me by surprise. I manage a quick chat with an old work colleague (and ex boss) Scott Smith who is accompanied by Ergo Computing legend, Johnny Haslam. I'm back home by 10.30pm with a huge smile on my face after an electrifying performance from the north eastern Smoggies.

It's Friday morning and I'm grabbing a coffee and a bacon cob from the Hungry Pumpkin, a Lace Market family-owned cafe deli on High Pavement. I'm at the train station by 8.30. It's a three day trip up to Glasgow that Tony Mac and I have looked forward to for months now. I booked the tickets so far in advance that they are a steal at £44 each.

There's a 40 minute change at Manchester Piccadilly. We see three arrests by the police outside the station. One shoplifter in particular is distraught and in tears - it's so sad to see this played out in front of our eyes. The Trans Pennine Express train arrives at Glasgow Central at 2.30pm on the nose.

Mac has booked a plush apartment that forms part of the Glasgow Royal Infirmary - at least we won't have far to walk should one of us fall ill or have an accident. There are 12x CAMRA Heritage Pubs in the vicinity that I want to chalk off as well as a fair few Good Beer Guide entries. 

Before checking-in at the digs we visit a few watering holes including Babbity Bowster which I have frequented on another occasion. I used to work for a company called Ideagen PLC, who sell governance, risk and compliance software - they are now a major sponsor for Nottingham Forest Football Club. They had an office up in East Kilbride, so I've spent a fair amount of time up here, but still have to cock my ear and listen intently when deciphering the dialect.

The plan was to go and watch a Scottish Championship top of the table clash between Partick and Falkirk. Unfortunately, for us, the match has been brought forward 24 hours to satisfy the TV companies. We've already bought tickets for a gig to be held on the same night.

We're in the dark and dingy basement of a venue called Room 2, on Nelson Mandela place. The drinks available are nothing to write home about. Local darkwave/electronic band, Mercy Girl, open up the gig. The main event is Bambara, a post punk/grunge band that hails from Athens, in Georgia, but who are now based in Brooklyn, New York. It's a blistering, high energy, boisterous set which is led and steered superbly by frontman Reid Bateh, who has the look of Elvis, with his black leather jacket, white T-shirt and snake hips. It's gone past midnight when we finally roll into bed (not together).

We're up, at 'em and having a Scottish breakfast by 9.30. The black pudding melts in the mouth, whilst the Americano is much-needed after a heavy day of travel on Friday. Glasgow has a superb underground rail system. £4,50 all day travel is great value. The first stop of the day is a HP pub called Brechins in the town of Govan, which was once famous for its shipyards. Brechins is open from nine in the morning and closes at teatime - it's more of a community pub that sadly doesn't sell real ale. It's early in the day, so we settle for half of Tennent's lager.

Ibrox is the next stop on the outer line. The football stadium is a short walk away. There's a statue of former manager Walter Smith as well as a number of memorials to people who lost their lives in several tragic incidents at the ground. In 1971, 66 supporters died following a crush on an exit stairway; over 200 people were injured too.

Lunchtime is spent in the smart town of Partick where we partake in a couple of beverages at some GBG pubs. It's a short train journey to Dumbarton, home to 'The Sons' and the infamous Dumbarton Rock that towers above the main stand.

Dumbarton are a club in crisis and are currently in administration. £122,000 has been raised in a crowdfunder. They are already relegated, but can play their part in how things will shape in the final standings. Annan Athletic, a Borders team, are today's visitors. Peter Shearstone, a fellow fan of Carlton Town, is a big supporter of the Galabankies.

It's sub standard fayre served up by both teams in the first half an hour. Clearances are shanked and chances are spurned. The visitors dominate proceedings, but somehow, totally against the run of play, 'The Sons' take the lead, much to the surprise and delight of most of the 581 in attendance.

There's the usual sending off that I tend to witness North of the Border; although this one is a tad harsh. An old warrior of a centre forward restores parity for the visitors. The game is suspended with 15 minutes remaining as a fire alarm has gone off. We all end up on the pitch which affords us a bird's eye view of the Dumbarton Rock. Once the game restarts 'The Sons' score two further goals to confirm Annan's fate, which will be a relegation play-off game. My mate Pete won't be happy. There's time for a quick drink at the 'Spoons in the town centre before boarding a train and heading up to Hillhead, Kelvinbridge and back into Glasgow city centre. It's gone midnight again when we finally return to base camp.

It's a lot warmer on Sunday as we take a wander and a gander at the superb street art and statues that are dotted around Glasgow. We have a posh breakfast at Cafe Gandolfi, with its high ceilings and old world vibe. We take a ride out on the overhead train to the town of Shettleston. We are greeted by a friendly old drunk in the doorway of The Railway Tavern - we can't understand a word he says.

We jump on another train to the town of Paisley, which is famous for its weaving industry, with its name given to the Paisley shawl and Paisley pattern. The actors Tom Conti and Gerard Butler were born here, as were the footballers Owen Coyle and Gordon 'Jukebox' Durie. 

It's an impressive town with some superb buildings. Four pubs are ticked off before returning to Glasgow in time for the second half of the FA Cup semi final between Manchester City and Nottingham Forest. We chance upon a table close to a TV that's mounted upon a wall at the Drum and Monkey, a grand old building that was once a bank. Forest are magnificent in the second half, but once again Gibbs-White achilles heel is his finishing.

We wander the streets of Glasgow in the evening ticking off more historical pubs. We're so far out of town that we have to UBER it back to Ben Nevis (the pub not the mountain). We finish up at a Spoons before the long slog back to the digs with just a Sainsbury's cheese and ham sandwich for company.

Attendance: 581

Man of the Match: Tony Mac. Planned the trip superbly

Best Beer Supped this Week: Lincoln Green, Hang in There

Best Song Heard on the Radio: Father John Misty - I Guess Time Just Makes Fools of Us

Notts County 1-3 Salford City

I'm queuing at the bar in Carlton Town's clubhouse. Sticky's splashing out on a big round of drinks following a Grand National shock win for Nick Rockett. Liquid Light's Day Tripper is always available on tap in the Millers' bar.

Carlton have drawn 1-1 to Brighouse Town, but the mood and talk amongst the fans is still upbeat. There is a presentation to two very popular players, Lawrence Stewart-Gorman and Lewis Durow, who have both made over 100+ appearances for the club.

I sit with 'Gilly', Framey and Duds as the Aston Villa v Nottingham Forest evening game kicks off. In the blink of an eye the Tricky Trees are 2-0 down. Sat adjacent to me is NFFC legendary supporter, Gary Clarke, who is clearly distraught at what he is witnessing He asks if the TV set can be turned off. Edward and I pipe up that it might be better if we watch the Brookside omnibus edition on Channel 4.

Forest react well to adversity. Shots are fired in, that narrowly go wide. They pull a goal back and miss a string of chances in the second half. It's a fantastic advertisement for the Premier League. But fortune is hiding today for U Reds, as the referee blows the final whistle.

It's 9am. on Sunday and I'm walking down Milton Street towards Victoria Centre, a shopping centre and social housing complex, in Nottingham. This brutalist building was constructed by Taylor Woodrow between 1967 and 1970. Victoria Market has all but closed. It was the place to be in the 1970s, when you could buy fish, poultry, fruit and lace amongst many other products. Nottingham can be a sorry and sad sight at this time of day. The shops are closed and it's eerily quiet. The homeless are wedged in shop doorways, buried in their sleeping bags.

Foodies and coffee aficionados are packed in like sardines at crowd favourite YOLK, which sits at the bottom of hipster Hockley. I decide to have breakfast at BEAR, a red-fronted diner, that's located in the heart of the creative neighbourhood. 

It's more worthy of praise than the 3.9 average google review score. I opt for Turkish eggs, served on Greek yoghurt, with crispy chilli oil and pink onions on warm flatbread. It's a best seller a mile away on The Avenue in West Bridgford. Fair play to the lads and lasses of 'Fur Coats and No Knickers Land;' it's an absolute banger when accompanied with a piping hot Americano and some warm milk - alright John Torode  .. calm down.

After walking off my breakfast, down Arkwright Street, and through the Meadows, I'm fumbling through my bag to find my phone, so I can show my members' pass to the steward who is on the gate at Nottinghamshire County Cricket Club.

I sit with Drurs, 'Acko', 'Seadog Paul' and the Horsburghs. Notts put themselves in a strong position following a century by 'one of our own', vice-captain Lyndon James. Drurs and I manage to get a couple of bollockings in the space of an hour. The first one is from an overzealous (bored) steward who says we aren't allowed to sit in the 'players area.' At lunch we feel the wrath of Durham's lead bowling coach and ex England Test cricketer, Graham Onions, when a stray, hurtling cricket ball narrowly misses us in the practise area on the outfield, as we saunter around the ground on the in-field.

It's Wednesday evening and I've finished up work for a few days - when I say work I mean talking to customers about football, cricket or the soap operas when all the TV magazines are published on a Tuesday. I've not been to flicks in ages. Why would you want to be cooped up in a tiny cinema whilst the sun is shining and the beer is flowing?

Mr Burton has been receiving some glowing reviews from the film press. What sways it for me is that the brilliant Toby Jones stars in the film, as an inspirational mentor and teacher, who encourages, cajoles and eventually adopts a young, promising Welsh actor called Richard Burton. Two hours flies by in a very busy Screen One at Broadway Cinema. I get my third bollocking of the week when an eagle-eyed usher clocks me checking the time on my phone. It's going to be one of those weeks folks.

I'm as happy as Larry on Thursday evening when I chance upon a half-price sale at Tartarus Brewery, who sell high end craft ales, up in Leeds. I bag 12x cans for £34. I explain to Ms Moon that they are soon to be past their best before date, so I'll need to drink 'em pretty quickly. "Any excuse", she replies.

I make the 4 mile walk to Trent Bridge Cricket Ground on Friday morning. I am accompanied by blog legend Faggsy (BLF) who has just spent the last five days walking the south west coastal path in Cornwall with Crazy Steve.

It's definitely a day to be lathered in Factor 30 sun cream as we sit like starfish in the Lower Radcliffe Road End. I've eaten most of my lunch only a few hours into play. Drurs and I retire to a shaded area in the upper Fox Road Stand for the afternoon session.

Managing director of England Cricket, Rob Key, is here to cast his eye over Essex's opening bowlers Sam Cook and Jamie Porter. It's worth the long trip as Notts are reeling at 78-5. 27 year old South African wicket keeper/batsman Kyle Verryenne comes to the rescue with a brilliant century on his seasonal debut.

Faggsy and I wander over Trent Bridge after the game. There's no time for a post-match beverage. We part company outside the Notts County ticket office. I queue for what seems an age as a few folk renew their season tickets. It's £27.50 to watch tonight's game - bloody hell, good job I won the Grand National.

Salford City are tonight's visitors. Trumpy Bolton and I saw them play away at Warrington about 15 years ago, when they only took three fans. 155 make the journey on a Coronation Street night (one for you there Edward).

I take my place in the Derek Pavis Stand, as Salford win the toss and spin round the home side, so they attack the Kop End, that's usually saved for the second half. The Pies form has been indifferent. They have had more recent successes on the road. Jodi Jones has been sorely missed, as has Dan Crowley (whisper that quietly) who has departed to MK Dons ('Voldemort FC').

The first half is bloody awful. Even an overexcited young boy, sitting behind me with his grandad, gets bored and starts blowing raspberries. Salford score a fortuitous goal on the stroke of half time after a miscommunication between the two officials. The game has been crying out for goal, maybe a few substitutions can fire up the home side.

There's a triple substitution made by an under pressure Stuart Maynard, who is sat in the stands, after three yellow cards. Jack Hinchy is unfortunate to be hooked, as he has at least tried to keep the ball moving and has got it out wide, despite being under pressure. 

Notts are soon 2-0 down with the lively 10 jacket, N'Mai, reacting the quickest to a parried shot. McGoldrick reduces arrears from close range after a corner. But Luke Garbutt puts the game to bed, at the second time of asking.Tempers are frayed in the Derek Pavis Stand, at the final whistle, as two County supporters are kept apart, as a feud has been brewing.

On Saturday after a 7 hour shift at the fun factory it's down to Trent Bridge for the afternoon and evening session. We can hear the noise of fans drifting over from The City Ground. At 4.50pm a supporter sat in the stand says Everton have scored. "Who was it?", I enquire, "Doucoure." I had a £2 first goalscorer (16/1) and £2 anytime bet (13/2) on the Mali international scoring. Sorry Red Dog Roly, but that's my night out paid for. I can't 'arf pick 'em.

Attendance: 9,643

Man of the Match: Abdoulaye Doucoure (Sorry NFFC Fans)

Song I liked on the Radio: CMAT, Running/PlanningBest 

Best Beer Supped this week: Eunomia, Tartarus

Nottingham Forest 1-0 Manchester United

The game has ended 1-1 in the East Riding of Yorkshire. We see out the afternoon in the North Ferriby FC clubhouse. They have a session SALT craft ale on behind the bar. I sink a couple whilst the players tuck in to the snap that has been laid on by our hosts. The banter is flying around the bus on the journey home. After a rip roaring set earlier in the day, 'Disco Dave' is now taking requests. Blog legend Edward asks for Rasputin by German 70s disco band Boney M. I ask him to perform, in the aisle, the Russian cossack dance called the Kozachoc. He politely declines my request.

Aggro Nige' isn't hijacking the decks, as he is too occupied and immersed in following NFFC's quarter final tie versus Brighton, down on the south coast. The game is as dull as dishwater. Cometh the man, cometh the hour. Sticky's favourite, Ryan Yates, blasts home the final spot kick to send the Tricky Trees to Wembley.

I'm dog tired when Edward very kindly drops me off at home at 8.30 pm. Ms Moon asks me if I want to play Lee Mack's 1% Club quiz show. As previously mentioned, Ms Moon has a higher IQ than Sticky. You wouldn't have thought so this evening readers, as I breezed my way to a rare victory.

It's Monday evening and I've just alighted a Nottingham City Transport bus, adjacent to The Cornerhouse complex. The plan was to have a spot of food at Slice n Brew, one of my favourite pizza joints. It never seems to be open on a Monday. I head down King's Walk, through Market Square, where folk are basking in the glorious late afternoon sunshine, and onto Victoria Street, where Rudy's Pizza Napoletana restaurant is located.

I grab a table for one and order up a soft drink and a salami pizza with a chilli and honey dip. My oh my, it's delicious folks. I walk it off in the city centre, whilst looking up and admiring the wonderful architecture that our city is so proud of.

The doorbell rings as I enter the quaint and quirky Barrel Drop micropub that's hidden away up Hurts Yard. I nurse a half pint of a cherry Raven Magpie dark stout beer, as I've overindulged at the weekend and I'm not in the mood for alcohol on a school night. Blog legends Tony Mac and DJ Murph are also in attendance. We're joined later by 'Aggro Nige', his partner Sue, blog reader and diehard Notts County fan Sean and his wife.

The reason for our gathering is that Irish post punk band, Gurriers, are playing Rescue Rooms. The original gig was at The Bodega, but tickets sold out so quickly that there has been a venue upgrade. £14 is a steal to watch the Dublin lads. Mac and I caught them in action at the Hare and Hounds, an iconic music venue in Kings Heath, Birmingham, at the back end of 2024. They blew the house down that evening.

DJ Murph is raving about the support band from Limerick called Theatre - what a terrible name to search on Google. We're only here for the main act; they don't disappoint. The set is full of energy, shouty vocals and loud guitars. Murph slopes off half an hour into the set, mumbling that they are average. The sellout crowd would beg to differ.

The diet is out of the window the following evening. I grab a cheeseburger at Five Guys before making my way through the Meadows on route to The City Ground. I sit on the banks of the river Trent listening to the bagpipes playing as the sun sets.

I'm in the ground 75 minutes before kick off - this is pretty impressive, even by my OCD standards. I paid £52 for my ticket - the last time I shelled out this sort of lolly was to watch The Cure in Birmingham, a couple of years ago.

I'm sitting a few rows above the players' tunnel. It gives me a bird's eye view of all pre-match activities. I can see makeup being applied to Ally McCoist, Martin O'Neill and Rio Ferdinand. TNT commentator, Darren Fletcher, who ironically lives just down the road, scurries off to his commentary position up at the top of the gantry. The Big Man (Mr Marinakis) makes an appearance on the pitch. He's dressed casually in a jacket and a white T-shirt - I wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of the Big 'un.

The DJ set, prior to the turgid stuff they play 15 minutes before kick off, is excellent. A lot of it is early 90s dance music. I used to love the DJ at NFFC, a few years back, who just used to play all the Madchester stuff like the Happy Mondays, Black Grape, The Charlatans and Stone Roses.

It's a pulsating game of football. Anthony Elanga latches onto a Ryan Yates headed clearance. He leaves a few players for dead before unleashing a shot that hits the back of the onion bag. The noise is deafening. United's away support is up there with the best in the country. Win or lose, they never stop singing. The guile, skill and speed of Garnacho gives them something to cheer about. But they are toothless up top, with nothing for the 20 year old Argentine to aim at or fire into.

There's a sensational end to the game when a Harry Maguire effort is cleared off the line by the Brazilian, Murillo. At the final whistle the players fall to the ground in exhaustion. I walk home over Trent Bridge with a spring in my step and fireworks high in the sky. It was some game for the neutral to view.

I stroll down to Trent Bridge Cricket Ground on Thursday morning, via the canal, where a few nasty Canadian geese are having a hissy fit. I renew my cricket season ticket to the tune of £209 - it's incredibly good value, considering the amount of games you can go to. I wander back into town and jump on a tram that heads up to Radford. I enjoy a couple of afternoon beers in the garden of the Lion, in Basford.

It's 'Christmas Day' on Thursday morning - more commonly known as the first day of the cricket season. I take my seat in a sun-drenched Lower Radcliffe Road Stand. I'm sat with Drurs and an old history teacher from South Wolds Comprehensive School, in Keyworth, called Peter Ford.

It's a fantastic day's cricket with Durham posting 376-9. Notts's overseas Australian bowler, Fergus O'Neill, has taken four wickets on his debut. I enjoy a couple of pints of 'Plain Sailing' with Red Dog Roly in the Fox and Grapes in the 'Nottingham Covent Garden.'

I volunteered for an extra shift at the shop on Saturday morning as they are short on personnel. It's a 4 am alarm call. Chippy Fryer and I enjoy some terrific bants with the general public of Arnold as they purchase the Daily Mail. We shout to all and sundry to back 'Nick Rockett' in the Grand National. In the real world my name is Nick.

I grab a power nap on return to HQ. I head out down Burton Road with clear blue skies and a stiff breeze at my back. The expectation of the Millers' faithful today is another three points. There's an astonishing wind-assisted 50 yard strike from Nat Watson that puts Carlton 1-0 up. It's no fluke, folks. 

The visitors, Brighouse (minus the brass band) are deservedly on level terms shortly before the break.  A cross from the winger, who is in acres of space, is headed home from close range. Carlton can't get a stranglehold on the game. They'll need a reset at the break, as well as a few choice words, as the levels will need to be upped.

The clubhouse is packed as two horses jump together at the final fence of Aintree's Grand National. "What are their names?"  I ask a keen racegoer. "Nick Rockett and I Am Maximus", he replies. I've backed 'em both. I tell Jon Gilbert, Duds and Framey: "I can't 'arf pick 'em." It's my round.

Brighouse continue to impress. There are some fine saves by 'Felix the Cat' who keeps them at bay. At the death their sub fires over from a few yards out when it looked like it was easier to score.

Attendance: 233

Man of the Match: Nick Rockett

Beer of the Week: 'Plain Sailing' Otherworld Brewery, Dalkeith, Scotland

Best Song Heard on the Radio: Stones Throw, Greentea Peng

North Ferriby 1-1 Carlton Town

It's 5pm, and I'm sitting in the Millers clubhouse celebrating a 3-1 win over Ossett United with club sponsor and good friend Jon Gilbert. We're both quaffing 'Day Tripper', a Liquid Light craft beer. It's a brewery that's based in the Sneinton and St Anns area of Nottingham.We're packed in like sardines; there's standing room only. The exhausted players file in one by one; they have given their all during a sublime second half performance, where a cricket score would have been posted, had it not been for the Ossett stopper.

A very special presentation is about to be made to one of the club's all-time greats. In a day and age of Non League players drifting from club to club, not caring two hoots, just for an extra tenner, here or there, the Carlton Town captain, Niall Davie, has racked up an incredible 300 first team appearances, at the age of 27 years old. He also, in the club's hour of need, scored one of the greatest goals in the history of the club. I had the privilege of witnessing that event, up in Hebburn, on a chilly March evening, back in 2023.

There's a heart-warming and emotional speech from Tommy Brookbanks, followed up with an acknowledgement and thank you from Niall, who is looked up to and respected by all at the club. His mum and dad look on, glowing with pride.

Ten of this squad have made over 100 Club appearances. Lawrence Gorman is on 184 and Dan Brown on 203. I leave the ground with DJ Murph entertaining the crowd with an alternative set. I finish up the evening with Ms Moon celebrating a 60th birthday party at the Cosy Club on Victoria Street. It's an iconic building that dates back to 1870 - I wish the beer did too, as the Brixton Pale ale is akin to dishwater, and gin measures are measly, unlike the Reef where they are full to the brim. Supper is a mini kebab from Vegas on Carlton Hill. Google reviews are spot on. Support your local businesses. 

I'm back down Stoke Lane on Tuesday evening. 'The Keyworth Georgie Best' 'Sizzers' and 'You've Been Framed' are also in attendance. It's another six pointer. The visitors, Emley, have had a dip in form, but will prove to be a tough nut to crack. They once knocked my team, Lincoln City, out of the FA Cup, before narrowly losing to West Ham 2-1 in the 3rd round back in 1998.

Liam Moran is firing on all cylinders. A quick word on this lad. He pitched up from a lower level of the game in the pre-season, before suffering an ankle injury. He's had to battle to win game time and you could see his confidence and self-esteem was low. A Tommy Brookbanks masterstroke saw him loaned out briefly over the Christmas period. He returned to the first team, knuckled down and won over the doubting Thomas's. He opens the scoring after pouncing on to a scuffed clearance.

It's nip and tuck in the second half as I wander over to meet Faggsy, who is across the way in the Malc Brown Stand - Malc, ironically, is AWOL in Lanzarote. We celebrate a hard-earned three points with a couple of Magpie real ales in the Old Volunteer.

Ms Moon is down in Brighton on business for three days. It's pretty clear that Virgin Media are unaware of her whereabouts as they called today (Thursday) to ask why the TV set hasn't been switched on for the last 72 hours. Normal service will be resumed at the weekend with Catch Up TV and Four in a Bed.

There have been some very flustered and worried pensioners popping into the newsagent's this week for their 82p issue of What's On TV. The breaking news is that The Farm's number one heartthrob, Caleb, is missing. "Do you think he's dead?" asks Maureen. "No love, he's gone on holiday to Scarborough for a couple of weeks", I reply.

It's Friday morning, and once again I'm loitering around Nottingham train station, minus my 'right arm' (Tony Mac) who is off to watch Spiritualize in Bristol. It's another Keyworth Jolly Boys Outing, to that there London. It's on days like these that you need a hearty 'Spoons breakfast, and less so the pint of Alpha Female from Roosters Brewery that accompanies it.

Ex Conservative Party supporter, Matt Limon, maps out a phenomenal trip. The beer isn't all that down Sarf, but the historical pubs more than make up for it. 16x Good Pub Guide tick offs are completed. We concentrate on the Soho and Covent Garden areas before finishing up at the Parcel Yard in King's Cross. The best beer of the day is back at Brew Tavern, in Notts, where Wallsend Brewery, Two by Two, have a 6% abv ale on. It's a beauty folks. Wallsend, in Tyne and Wear, has a conveyor belt of football talent from the area including: Michael Carrick, Lee Clark and Brian Laws. 

Ms Moon's sister has stopped overnight as she is playing for an orchestra who are performing the soundtrack from the 1982 film E.T. at the Royal Concert Hall. They are having lunch together in town prior to the show. There are already a few people milling around the Estadio El Stokio as I walk through the gates of Carlton Town for the third time in 8 days.

Support is a little thinner on the ground today for the visit up to the East Riding of Yorkshire. A few of the Millers are down on the south coast where the Tricky Trees take on the Seagulls in an FA Cup quarter final tie. The roll call for the coach includes: Club Shop Ken, Murph, Disco Dave, Justin, Aggro Nige, Sonya, Elliot, Unders, Edward and James.

Most of the squad board the coach at Millers Barn, with a few more joining us at Junction 29. Former Millers legend, Grant Brindley, has donated his £50 '200 Club' winnings to buying some beer for the supporters and players for the return coach journey home - nice touch that Grant.

'Disco Dave' has got the toons on. Pet Shop Boys and ELO are the pick of the bunch as we pull in at Scunthorpe Services, so the players can get some food. 'Aggro Nige' hijacks the decks as we head nearer to Yorkshire. Mark E Smith, of The Fall, belts out 'Hit the North', Sparta FC' and a belter of a cover version of Sister Sledge's 'Lost in Music' - What's On TV subscriber and Daily Mail reader, Edward, is mightily impressed.

The coach drops us off at the Duke of Cumberland, a pub in the village, that's a short walk from North Ferriby's ground, We're joined by 'Split Ticket Sam' who has travelled over from Stockport. Justin very kindly buys me a pint of Wainwright's, although I'm still feeling a tad fragile. It's a lovely stroll up to the ground, past the village hall and War Memorial. It's £8 on the gate. The ground is magnificent. I've been a few times when my mate's lad (Ross Durrant) played in the nets for Ferriby. I also came to a sold out pre-season friendly versus Hull City, when we had to pick up tickets from the local post office.

I take advantage of the empty, padded seats in the 'Visiting Directors' Box.' The Millers play with a stiff breeze at their backs. It's a scrappy opening, with nothing doing, until an in-form Moran gets round the back before falling to the ground, the referee points to the spot. The locals around me are incandescent with rage. I remain unmoved and keep my head down as "10 more years, 10 more years Niall Davie" blasts home the spot kick. The Carlton Cattermole should have doubled their lead, but his effort is blocked by the alert 'keeper.

Lewis Durow spurns a golden chance, early in the second half, to put the game to bed from close range, just before the hour. Ferriby have rarely threatened, but are back in the game when they score direct from a corner. They get their pecker up and begin to dominate the middle of the park; slicing through it like a knife through butter. A flurry of substitutions steadies the ship for the Millers. Watson nearly wins it for them after weaving his way through. only to see his blistering strike cannon off the bar.

The long, unbeaten run continues, with only one loss in the last 18 outings. You'd take a point before the game, but they might end up ruing those missed opportunities.

Man of the Match: Dean Freeman (back four, to a man, were magnificent)

Attendance: 339

Beer of the Week: Two By Two - Citra Simcoe Ekuanot IPA 6% abv

Best Record I've Heard This Week: Ian Brown, 'Golden Gaze.' 2000

Credit photos: Steve McKeown and Lou Lardi