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