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

Carlton Town 3-1 Ossett United

It's Monday 3rd March and I've plonked my backside in Nottingham Forest's 'A' Block for the first time since the Steve Cooper days. I miss my midweek outings to The City Ground. I look back at my blogs gone by when Reading, Millwall and Hull City were the visitors and wonder where the additional 13,000 fans were hiding in those days; not to mention the 11,000 who are on the season ticket waiting list.

I'm sat with Sticky jnr, who to his credit has supported the Tricky Trees through thick and thin; mostly the latter. Aitor Karanka and Mark Warburton seem a distant memory. The Tractor Boys, from Ipswich, are tonight's visitors for an FA Cup tie. I engage with a steward, who is actually a Lincoln City fan. He says only 8,000 NFFC season ticket holders have taken up the option of watching tonight's game - bet they'll be at Wembley, should fortune be on Forest's side.

The Tricky Trees aren't really at the races. Danilo and Sangare are way off the pace. It's the leadership, grit and sheer determination of skipper Ryan Yates who gets Forest back in the game, after somehow they had fallen behind to a George Hirst header.

'A' Block are on fire with their witty ditties. I join in with the 'Tax Dodging Farmers' chant that's aimed at the away following. The penalty shootout is never in doubt. Belgian 'keeper Matz Sels gets down well to push away the final spot kick to see Forest into the quarter finals. I have more pressing matters to attend to as I peg it up London Road, I've a 2.30 a.m alarm call, and for once it's not for 'media duties.' (MSR)

Wayne the taxi driver arrives at 3 a.m. on the dot. I've actually had zero hours kip for the first time since an all-night party at Mark Brown's house, on Selby Lane, Keyworth, back in 1978, when I inherited the nickname 'Sticky' as I was about 8 stone wet through back then.

We've a Ryanair flight out of East Midlands Airport at the ridiculous time of 5.45 a.m. I (we) sleep for three hours during the flight. It's fantastic to return to the sunnier climes of Tenerife after over a year away. For two weeks as well, folks: happy days indeed.

We're staying at Port Royale, a complex at the back of Los Cristianos. The climb from the harbour to our apartment can only compare with 'Donkey Hill' in St Anns or the walk from Matlock train station to the Thorn Tree pub. If you aren't gasping for air after either of these hard slogs then you should donate your lungs to medical research.

Tenerife never disappoints. The walks up the coast, meals in La Caleta harbour, the tribute bands in the bars, the seven mile stroll through Los Cris, Playa de las Americas up through to Costa Adeje, that is dripping with sunshine.

I manage to get three games of Canarian League football in. The standard isn't great, but it always puts a smile on my face. The first game was up in the hills at San Isidro, where the visitors were from Las Palmas, in Gran Canaria - there's a deadly rivalry between the two islands, and if it all kicks off then I'm tooled up with a bucket and spade with the Reef lads. The visitors arrived on the back of a four month unbeaten run. Their goalkeeper was red-carded with ten minutes remaining for almost decapitating Isidro's 9 jacket. 2-2 felt like a win.

The following day I treat Ms Moon to a lunchtime kick off at CD Marino, whose stadium is at the back of Kn Columbus hotel in Playas. A 3-0 reverse doesn't dampen my enthusiasm or love for Marino. The final match was miles up in the mountains. I foolishly under-clubbed it on the clothes front. It was 23 degrees and sunny when I left Los Cris. I was the only supporter wearing shorts at San Miguel's stadium. Most have thick coats on and are clutching brollies as black clouds began to blow in. I asked for a San Miguel, the barman said they only have Mahou - "but the village is called San Miguel" I exclaimed, as I was comforted by the warmth of the bar. The game was awful, but thankfully there was a goal which brought some cheer and a glow for the locals.

There were a few tears shed by Ms Moon when the devastating news was received from blog regular Mr John Harris (by twitter dm) that ITV's flagship show Dancing on Ice is to be axed from their winter schedule. I have to pay the cleaner an extra 20 euros to mop up the river of tears that have flooded the apartment. I thought I'd cheer her up by playing cards (rummy) on the balcony each night. Unfortunately she lost 80-65 over the two week period. I celebrated with my annual cigarette, which coincides with my 30th anniversary of 'No Smoking.'

The holiday ends on a high note when we lunch with fellow Carlton Town fan Nigel Harlow and his partner Sue, in the harbour at La Caleta on Sunday lunchtime. I don't think we'll return for Cheltenham Week or St Patrick's Day, as all the resorts were full to the brim, making it hard to get served or book a table.

I'm sat in the Stratford Haven, in West Bridgford, an hour after landing at East Midlands Airport. Tonight Carlton Town are playing up near Wakefield, in West Yorkshire. The Mighty Millers are on a great run of form, it's a game not to be missed. Club sponsor and an old school friend of Ms Moon's, Jon Gilbert, picks me up outside the Co-op. We enjoy some banter on the journey up the M1, grabbing a chippy tea a few miles from the ground.

The usual suspects are holed up at the ground - DJ Murph, Danny, Dean, Justin, Johnny, Aidan, Pete and his carer Dylan. The Millers play a beautiful game and deservedly take the lead through the in-form Liam Moran. Chances are spurned to be out of sight. The inevitable happens after a mix up. Immediately from the restart Nat Watson sees a speculative shot from 60 yards just dip the wrong side of the post with the Liversedge 'keeper stranded.

It's a brilliant game for the neutral in the second half. Carlton shade it 3-2, but overall deserve the win. It maintains their good run of form. We're as happy as Larry and euphoric on the journey home.

Thursday tea time is spent with Crazy Steve in the VAT and Fiddle and TBI before attending a Notts Cricket Lovers' Society meeting where the guest speaker is Derbyshire CCC captain Wayne Madsen who has some entertaining anecdotes as well as an interesting journey and successful career.

The pace is relentless since returning from the Reef. On Friday I grab a bacon sandwich and Americano at the Hungry Pumpkin before meeting up with Tony Mac at Nottingham Railway Station. We catch the 9.16 to Stoke-on-Trent where we have some Good Beer Guide unfinished business.

We wander down the Trent Mersey Canal towards Etruria where the Holy Inadequate pub will be opening at midday. The only times, over the years, where I've had to wait for a pub to open, have usually been in the company of Mr Trumpy Bolton.

A few miles up the road is the town of Newcastle-under-Lyme. It has a population of over 75,000. Notable people from the town include: ex Stoke City kitman 'Nello', who starred in the best film ever, 'Marvellous', footballer Robbie Earle and cricketer Dominic Cork.

We're taken aback at how smart the town is. There's a park which houses statues of Queen Elizabeth II and Queen Victoria. The pubs are magnificent. Ones for the notebook include: The Hop Inn and Bridge Street Ale House. 

We jump in an Uber and head up to Burslem where one pub was closed on our last visit. A new entry is Ye Olde Crown. A few early Clash tracks see out a brilliant end to another superb trip out.

A long overdue lie-in is taken on Saturday morning. Ms Moon's friend Jill has come round for coffee as I slip out of the door and head down to Carlton's number one chippy Oceans. The owner is grumpy today and chooses not to engage in small talk - at least the fish, chips and curry sauce are on form.

It starts to rain as I make the half an hour walk down to Stoke Lane. On arrival the supporters are seeing out a game of Sticky 13s in the clubhouse. DJ Murph plays a cracking track by Leeds band The Sunshine Underground called 'I Ain't Losing Any Sleep.

'Today is 'Niall Davie Day' as Carlton's Captain, Leader and Role Model makes his 300th appearance for the club. A presentation is to be made after the game in the clubhouse - more on that next week.

The rain has set in and is falling quite heavily as the players emerge from the changing rooms. It's a scrappy opening with the visitors having the better of the exchanges. The Ref has worse eyesight than me, when Manneh is sent tumbling, a penalty isn't awarded, despite the whistle being drawn to his mouth.

Watson scores from a peach of a free kick. Moran doubles the lead after picking the pocket of a dozing defender before slotting the ball past an advancing 'keeper. Two to the good, they'll take that, despite being nowhere near the levels required by Tommy Brookbanks and his backroom team.

Ossett pull a goal back. but are soon behind again following a pinpoint corner and flick on which sees a smart finish by Dean Freeman at the back post. If it wasn't for the efforts of the visiting stopper then half a dozen goals wouldn't have flattered the Millers.

Attendance: 286

Man of the Match: Ossett 'Keeper

Record of the Week: The Sunshine Underground, 'I Ain't Losing Any Sleep.'

Beer of the Week: DouGall's, Hazy APA (Spanish microbrewery)

North Gawber Colliery 4-1 Kiveton Park

I'm on my laptop planning meticulously a sojourn to Sheffield, where I require a further five watering holes to complete the steel city's Good Beer Guide 2025 pub entries. I peer over my screen as I hear a pot of tea being poured in the kitchen of Corrie's Ken Barlow's gaff. Claire Sweeney brings two mugs of tea through to the back room. It's a lounge that's barely been touched since Albert Tatlock died from a heart attack, at the age of 88 years old, in 1984. Ms Moon shouts out "don't drink it Ken, it's laced with antihistamines."

I enquire as to what the hell Claire Sweeney is doing in Barlow's abode? "Ricky Hatton won't be happy if he gets wind of it, he's Claire's boyfriend isn't he?" Ms Moon explains that Hatton isn't in the show and that it's only people acting. "Well Ricky only lives down the road in Hyde, he could get the tram in and he won't be mithering Granada TV for hotel expenses, although the Rovers Return bar tab might reach four figures. Ms Moon tells me not to be so stupid. 

It did get me thinking, though, about the actor William Roache. He single-handedly bled ITV's coffers dry with the longest contract since Newcastle United awarded Alan Pardew an eight year deal back in 2012. 92 year old Nottingham-born (in Basford) Roache, has blagged a 65 year career playing the boring, womanising, academic on the cobbled streets. Fair play to him though, he did manage to pull Stephanie Beacham.

I'm feeling rather chipper on Wednesday evening as I leave work. I've three days off to look forward to. Next week Ms Moon and I are flying out to Tenerife for a fortnight. Don't worry folks, I've a couple of games lined up and a new ground to tick off.

I alight the 25 bus close to Carlton Square. I fancy a couple of pints to start the 'weekend' off. The Old Volunteer has a plethora of mouth-watering range of ales on; mostly from local breweries. I plump for another Bang the Elephant New Zealand pale ale called Gnarly. I slump in a chair in the corner of the room. There are kids running around, dogs continually barking and a game of bingo being played. I pretty much down my pint and head home. I get that pubs have to think out of the box to stay open. But Bingo at 6pm is not the one. And only eight people were playing. My Carlton pals say it would have been better to embrace it. Not at £10 per bingo book, it wouldn't.

My grumpy mood continues for most of the evening as Nottingham Forest and Arsenal play out the dullest of 0-0 draws - a Ken Barlow lecture would be more entertaining than the dross these two sides serve up. The NFFC drama darlings on social media are happy enough with a point. Well I wouldn't be, as the Gunners were there for the taking!

I'm on a Northern train that's heading up to Wakefield, which is another city I need to finish off following an evening spent there, a few years ago, with some Herberts in the Wakefield Labour Club, who took an instant dislike to a steaming Sticky and Tony Mac post BREXIT vote.

I've set myself the task of walking 10 miles around Sheffield today. This would be easy peasy in most cities, but unfortunately Sheffield has hills as high as the Matterhorn. I'm soon striding out into the leafy suburbs with their artisan bakeries, local family butchers and independent cafes and bars.

I'm blown away by the frontage of Broadfield, a pub that dates back to 1896. Sureshot, a brewery located under the railway arches in the Piccadilly East area of Manchester, have a cask ale on called Hysterical and Useless. It's a belter of a pint folks which barely touches the sides.

I continue my walk to the next scheduled stop, Rising Sun, in Nether Green, which according to Google maps is an hour away. I had contemplated jumping on a bus, but it's a beautiful day for a stroll and you see so much more on a wander.

Pub three is Blind Monkey. It turns out to be the final one of the day as an attempt to book an Uber up to a heritage pub, in Heeley called the White Lion, is aborted due to a lack of availability of taxis.

I'm out on my feet by the time I reach the station, six hours after I first arrived. 11 miles have been chalked up on my phone app which also records 26,000 steps ... ooh get me. I can't pass the Brew Tavern without swinging by for one. A disappointing pint of a session Deya pale ale called Friend of the Podcast sees the day out and lights out too.

I'm down Europe's worst supermarket, Carlton Tesco, first thing on Friday morning. Ironically 'Push the Button' by Sugarbabes is on Radio Tesco. When demolition day is announced I'll be at the front of the queue to perform that task. Evening dinner is bagged as I'm on cooking duty this evening. I then head over to south of the river to see what's on offer at the Trent Bridge Cricket Shop sale. It's not a lot, if I'm honest. I purchase a half priced shirt for my holidays.

I have a teatime pint in the Fox and Grapes and a swift half pint of craft ale at neighbouring Neon Raptor, who are hoping to move into new premises in the next few months. This is not without complications as news has leaked out that the brewery will be staying put where they are, and that the new taproom will be drinking inside only. Unless you buy a can, and then wander down The Avenues and ask for a glass at the brewery, so you can sit outside on the wooden benches, soaking up the summer sunshine.

It's Saturday morning and I'm sitting in the armchair doing a couple of hours admin for the Keyworth Dream League fantasy football thingy we first started running back in 1993. I place a £5 football bet on three away wins for the syndicate 'Chippy Fryer' and I are in.

I hear a car engine revving up outside, at just gone 11 o'clock. The Big Man is piloting up to South Yorkshire, so I can tick off another ground in the Sheffield and Hallamshire Senior League. Bros are singing 'I Owe You Nothing' on Greatest Hits radio, which is ironic, as I will be contributing £10 petrol money towards the trip.

The Big 'un is green with envy that Ms Moon and I are flying out to the 'Reef, as it's his favourite holiday destination. He often enjoys a drink in the back bars of Los Cristianos, just off 'Heart Attack Hill', with Mancunian ex-boxer Ricky 'The Hitman' Hatton, who has a place out there. Sweeney best not make a brew.

In just over an hour we're parking up in the church hall car park in the village of Maplewell. We'd previously visited a top chippy in nearby Darton. Unfortunately it's closed for two weeks, and they hadn't bothered to update their google page. You're never that far away from a good 'un in Yorkshire though.

They're already queuing outside Aqua Fish Bar in the village of Mapplewell. For £5.50 you get a small haddock and chips. I decline the batter bits that I'm kindly offered. Across the road from the Wentworth pub is a bottle shop and bar. The lady behind the bar is dead friendly and knowledgeable about the craft ale scene. She persuades me to buy a can of DIPA from Ireland.

Woolley Miners Welfare is a short drive down the road. I wrote a list of new grounds I wanted to visit at the beginning of the season. North Gawber Colliery FC has been on my radar since August. I've enjoyed the grounds in this League, less so the behaviour of management, players and fans; particularly in West Yorkshire.

I'm taking a few photos as the lady official blows her whistle to kick off the game. Within 10 seconds the home side are ahead, It's the quickest goal I've ever witnessed in over 50 years of watching football. We can't 'arf pick em.

The ground is a beauty and is shared with the cricket club. It's fully railed off with a wonderful old stand on the far side of the ground that was probably full in the halcyon days when 2,000 men worked the seams at the nearby colliery.

I chance upon a 'match hopper' from Wakefield, who tips me off on a few local grounds of interest. Gawber score again to make it 2-0. Kiveton Park, near to Rotherham, look half asleep. Herbert Chapman was born in the town. He later managed Huddersfield Town to two First Division titles in the mid 1920s before moving to 'The Arsenal' where a further two titles were won in the early 1930s. In 2013 he was voted as the World's 9th greatest ever manager.

Kiveton Park could do with Chappers today. They pull one back but leak another two goals. A supporting dad, stood next to us, says that there's too much focus on a team-bonding night out in Whitby after the game. I can't fault 'em for that. Whitby has some cracking boozers.

I arrive home to the news that two Charlton Athletic added time goals see my £5 treble over the line. I can't 'arf pick 'em. Thanks for driving Big Man.

Attendance: Head count 31

Man of the Match: Herbert Chapman

Beer of the Week: Sureshot, Hysterical and Useless

Best Record Heard on the Wireless: Sports Team, Bang, Bang Bang

Bootle 0-1 Hednesford Town

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 abhorrent incident 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 gathering 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

Stapleford Town 2-1 Retford United

It's Saturday 8th Feb and I'm sitting on the Matlock to Nottingham train with Carlton fan Pete Shearstone. We're travelling back from one of the great away days. The Mighty Millers have played Belper Town off the park. After endless high fives and fist pumps in the Nailers clubhouse the party continues at Lincoln Green's The Railway, which is up on King Street.

Pete and I chatter away on the short journey home. He's such a lovely bloke, who has a passion for Scottish football too. We while away the journey reminiscing about trips to our favourite grounds north of the border. I'm back up there at the fag end of April, on tour with Tony Mac, when we will be taking in a Partick Thistle game.

The party breaks up at Nottingham station. A few supporters drift into town or down to Castle Rock's Barley Twist on Carrington Street. Six pints, on the day, is more than enough for me. I book an UBER back up to Chez Palms. Ms Moon is settled in for the evening. Through gritted teeth I watch shouty Michael McIntyre. I hit the wooden hill halfway through Lee Mack's 1% Club - I was being a bit mardy as Ms Moon's IQ is higher than mine - then again so was Murphy's, my old budgie.

I'm on Media duties over the next few days. Ms Moon suggests that I relax on my return home on Tuesday evening when ITN News is switched on. Readers last week may remember my fit of pique when fake weathercaster - yep that's what they are called nowadays - Alex Beresford appeared on our screens from a botanical garden in Sussex, instead of toughing it out on top of Beachy Head.

Beresford is on annual leave this week, probably in sunnier climes. It doesn't stop my blood pressure from rising when that pillock Robert Peston suddenly pops up. This guy proper grinds my gears. He emphasises syllables in every sentence. I pop a BP pill and venture out to the Old Volunteer, Carlton's finest watering hole for a couple of jars, where they have gorgeous ales on from Liquid Light (Sneinton) and Bang the Elephant (Langley Mill).

It's 5pm on Wednesday evening and I've just knocked off from an afternoon shift at the shop. I'm feeling quite proud of myself as I actually walked to work this morning. It's only just over 4 miles but it's equivalent to climbing the north face of Everest when negotiating Carlton to Mapperley via Cavendish Road or Westdale Lane.

I'm shoehorned into an upstairs seat into what many consider to be the finest pizzeria in Nottingham. Slice n Brew is on the corner of Kings Walk. I plump for a thin crust Soppressata Salami, accompanied by hot honey and a truffle and parmesan dip. I quite easily could have had a half an hour nap after wolfing it down, but I've a ticket for the cinema.

I clocked a trailer for a movie called September 5, the last time I was at Broadway cinema. It's set in the Olympic village during the Munich Games in 1972. The ABC American sports broadcasting team find themselves filming a hostage siege live on air. A number of Israeli athletes were taken hostage by a Palestine terrorist organisation. The viewing figures, at one point, were higher than when Neil Armstrong landed on the moon. It has a 95 minute running time and is definitely one for the notebook. Madonna's old flame, Sean Penn, is one of the producers.

I'm down at Sneinton Market on Friday morning. To be more precise I'm in the barber's chair at Mr Eko's, 'Nottingham Covent Gardens' number one Bosnian Barber. He'd had a couple of vodka shots the last time I had a trim. I mention that I didn't think he was at his best on that occasion - he says he will forgive me for my comment, but won't forget it ..lol.

I wander down Stoney Street and turn off onto the steps that lead you to Fletchers Restaurant and Nottingham College. I've booked a £4 return ticket to Long Eaton. I alight at Attenborough and make the 45 minute walk out of the village and onto the A6005 towards the town centre.

Lincoln Green refurbished the old Harrington Arms in 2019, and reopened it as the Mill and Brook, to reflect the town's contribution to the lace industry back in the day. I enjoy a pint of Porter whilst having a warm, as it's bitterly cold today.

I sit and read Martin Kelner's hilarious book called 'Wrestling in Honey.' It's a nostalgic look at some of the columns he wrote for The Guardian. He mentions a documentary he watched which involved the athletes Zola Budd and Mary Decker. Arnold's favourite paper, the Daily Mail, sponsored the bare-footed South African Budd, during apartheid, to the tune of £100,000 (her Dad pocketed £80,000 of it). The paper campaigned for her to be granted British citizenship. It all ended in tears when Budd 'accidentally' tripped up the USA track darling, Decker, at the 1984 Los Angeles Olympics. 

I wander down the canal, passing the Barge Inn, as I head towards the village of Sawley. I stand and admire the stunning War Memorial before popping into the White Lion, which not only serves Bass, but is also another Good Beer Guide tick off.

I fight my way through the rush hour traffic back in Nottingham. It's date night, and not only that, it's Valentine's Day. And boy do I have a treat for Ms Moon. You can't beat a £4.39 round for two at Carlton 'Spoons. The Loch Lomond 'Lost in Mosaic' is a beauty. We both can't be bothered to cook, so the good lady has bought a 'Valentine's Meal Deal' from Marks and Sparks. We have a chuckle at Gogglebox over a glass of wine.

It's Saturday morning and Ms Moon is about to jump into a cab to the train station, with her daughter, Becky. They're off to Manchester for the weekend to see James Blunt - I've already sent my condolences. I'm excited as the Mighty Millers are taking on Emley. Well I was until I scrolled down my twitter timeline to see the words 'GAME OFF.'

I pin it on Faggsy to pick a game to go to. He fancies Stapleford Town v Retford United. I enjoy a bacon sandwich as I watch an hour of Leicester v Arsenal. The Gunners over do it; passing the ball to death. I switch off and head to town where I catch a tram to Radford from outside the Royal Centre.

I walk through Asda car park and cross the tram tracks on Radford Road before turning left at Chappati Junction. I've enjoyed watching Stapleford this season. They have a resilience about them and a team spirit. They seem like a good bunch of lads, who have taken to Step 6 like a duck to water. Today Michael Robb makes his 150th appearance for the club.

I had a ten minute abusive phone call from Radford Director of Football Big Glenn Russell this morning. I was hoping he'd be gracing us with his presence, but he's gone all soppy since announcing his engagement and has gone out on a couples cocktail day with his fiance, 

DJ Murph has joined us. Retford have brought a large following, like they did at Gedling earlier in the season. They enjoy the lion's share of possession, but go behind when Upo's lad blasts a spot kick home after 15 minutes. The visitors are on level terms before half-time. Earlier in the game blog legend Ian Upton had appealed to the referee for a handball when it was actually the keeper that had caught it .. lol.

The players begin to tire in the second half as running on the heavy surface takes its toll. Stapleford are always in the game. They score the winner in stoppage time to break the hearts of the travelling support. Jared Russell and Alans Voskresenskis have worked their socks off. The latter has ploughed a lone furrow. He's neat, tidy and busy. 

Attendance: 103

Man of the Match: Alans Voskresenskis

Beer of the Week: Tell Me How The Sausage Is Made, Bang the Elephant

Song of the Week: Bambara - Letters to Sing Sing