Faggsy, DJ Murph and I walk up Radford Road following Stapleford's last gasp winner, in what was a pulsating game of football at Selhurst Street. We quaff a couple of pints at a bustling Lion, in Basford. It has a rustic look about it with its brick walls and wooden floors, not forgetting its superb range of cask and craft ales.
Murph slopes off as blog legend Fags (BLF) and I jump on a return tram into town. We wander up Friar Lane and call in for a final pint of the evening at Ye Olde Salutation, a Grade II listed building that dates back to the year 1240. I enjoy a pint of my favourite current tipple, a Porter. It doesn't half warm you up on a chilly Winter's evening.
Ms Moon is back from her girly weekend away in Manchester. She has enjoyed tapas, bubbles, James Blunt and Bridget Jones. Tonight (Monday) she is tucking into a Sticky Palms chilli con carne. I can't 'arf make 'em.
The good lady's eyes are transfixed to the TV set. A number of TV Times gongs are up for grabs this week as icy waters hit the set of Emmerdale Farm. I've not seen this calibre of acting since an episode of Acorn Antiques from the Victoria Wood Show.
Obviously I'm up to date on events as I've been reading an 85p latest issue of What's On TV, during a 'market research' moment at Arnold's number one newsagent. Let me set the scene. It appears a Limousine full of drunken Dingles (aren't they all called that in The Farm?) has careered off Hoton Road before tipping up on an icy lake. Here's the irony folks, Leyla, who is in the limo, is skating on the ice. "She could be in trouble here", I shout out to Ms Moon. "Wasn't she knocked out in the early stages of Dancing On Ice?" Yep, 'Leyla' doesn't make it. It's one out of five from Jayne Torvill.
It's Tuesday evening and I'm queuing up at the Meadow Lane ticket office. I've been refused entry at the turnstile for the Notts County v Colchester United League Two fixture, due to my electronic ticket being issued for this Saturday's forthcoming fixture versus Tranmere Rovers. You would need to be a masochist to endure Rovers twice this season (sorry Steve Mack). It's swapped over with no fuss, but I'm not happy as I've missed a majority of the warm ups.
I take my seat as 'Wake Me Up' by the excellent Foals, who were formed in Oxford 20 years ago, booms out of the pa system. Danny Cowley's Colchester arrive in Nottingham as the form team. They'll be a tough nut to crack. They were great times at 'The Lincoln' when the Cowley brothers were at the helm. A few of those players have been reunited with their former manager at the U's.
The Magpies are down to the bare bones. There's no Bedeau, Jones or McGoldrick this evening. It gives opportunities to the likes of Kellan Gordon to stake a place in the starting line up. He fires in a pearler of a cross which is turned into the net by Grant. Colchester miss two gilt-edged chances shortly after, much to the annoyance of Cowley, who prowls the technical area whilst bending the ear of the fourth official.
Colchester score a beauty in the second half with a raid down the right hand side. The game fizzles out. The bloke behind me constantly refers to the visitors as 'The Colchester Diving Team' as Cowley runs down the clock - it wasn't funny the first time mate .. yawn.
It's Friday morning and I'm tucking into a £6.50 medium fry up with toast and tea at The Avenues in the 'Nottingham Covent Garden.' It's the Return of the Mac to 'Friday Days Out Club', after a short spell on the sidelines.
It's a trip that's required meticulous planning as our hands are tied to the railway gods. We change trains at Stoke-on-Trent where there's time for a swift Titanic Plum Porter. The captain of the ocean liner, Titanic, Edward Smith, was born in Hanley, Stoke-on-Trent, in 1850. Not sure who thought him competent to be the captain aboard a ship, when Stoke is further from the sea than most towns in the UK. I hope he hadn't had a snifter of a plum porter when he hit that iceberg, as it weighs in at 4.9% ABV.
We tick off a couple off Beer Guide entries in the picture postcard village of Penkridge where I enjoy a huge cheese and onion cob that Staffordshire often offers - it even has the crusty top of the cob slightly singed like they should be.
We get the train back to Stafford where we visit a few more historical watering holes. But it's the town of Stone that is the star of the show. On 22nd Jan, 1971, the greatest centre forward ever to have worn the Garibaldi Red of Nottingham Forest, was born in Stone.
I first clapped eyes on Stanley Victor Collymore at Filbert Street in 1993. He didn't score that evening during a 4-2 loss for Southend United (Brett Angell bagged 'em both). You couldn't take your eyes off the athletic prowess, strength and running style of Stan. To this day I couldn't tell you what his stronger foot was. The rest is history, and so was Stan after an abhorrincident in Paris back in 1998, when he attacked and assaulted his then girlfriend Ulrika Jonsson.
Stone is a beautiful old coaching town. The Royal Exchange is the pub of the day. We finish up in the Barley Twist, opposite Broad Marsh centre. We toast to the demolition of the brutalist old bus station and shopping centre which has finally been given a £30 million sign-off 20 years too late thanks to the mismanagement of a Labour City Council and the lack of funding by the Conservative Party. Politics, eh?
Talking of sign-offs, I must thank Ms Moon for not kicking up a fuss on another day out today (Saturday). I keep shuffling the pack with the 'two weeks in Tenerife playing card' but that one is wearing a wee bit thin.
I'm soon haring up the M6, back to Stoke, ironically, in the front of Crazy Steve's Hyundai, with Little Al in the back checking on Ben Duckett's progress for England v Australia in the Champions Trophy tie at the Gaddafi Stadium, in Lahore.
Crazy and his entourage are flying out to Malaga on Thursday for four nights, where they have a packed schedule. They are taking in Cordoba v Granada in the Segunda Division next Sunday. I've been tasked in the car to look at both squads to see if there are any players we know. "Oh my God" .. I shout out, 'the French Glasgow Kisser', Zinedine Zidane, has both his sons playing in the same game, but on opposite sides. "Crazy, I expect a selfie with 'The Zidanes.'
The first Heritage Pub we visit is the Scotch Piper, the oldest pub in historic Lancashire. The landlady is very sociable. She gives us a history lesson about the pub. The second watering hole is in the working class area of Walton. It's a proper drinkers' pub. There's a healthy lunchtime turnout for the Everton v Man Utd game on TV. Women breeze in and breeze out of the front door as they set up for a baby shower this savvy. Pots of Scouse stew are wheeled in.
The final pub visit is in hipster Crosby, well actually it's in neighbouring Waterloo. We throw a few darts as we neck our final pint before heading to the suburb of Bootle.
I've been trying to tick off the Berry Street Garage Stadium for what seems an age. I have another interest today too: a lad who was at Notts County as an eight year old when I was Head of Recruitment is in Hednesford Town's squad today. 12 goals, 15 assists and 35% of their goals. He's somehow on the bench?
The owner of Notts County, Ray Trew sold 14 year old Jack Bearne to Liverpool for £170,000. The day after he sold on the club to local businessman Alan Hardy. Bearne stayed at Anfield until he was 21 years old; an incredible feat. He made one senior appearance for the club in the League Cup at Aston Villa. He spent last season up at Greenock Morton, in Scotland, before returning to familiar ground in the Midlands.
Crazy Steve is grazing on a salt and pepper chicken from the food hut when Hednesford open the scoring in the opening minute. The rest of the game is drab and without incident. It's a lovely ground with two raised seated stands on either side of the ground.
The big event is Rhegan's 18th birthday party in the clubhouse later this evening. We've no time for that. nor an invite. We're back in Nottingham for 6.45pm, after another thrilling day out.
Attendance: 713
Man of the Match: Ben Duckett
Beer of the Week: Polly's - Uncanny Valley 6%
Best Song on the Radio: 'Can't Be Sure' The Sundays
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