Lincoln City 3-1 Stockport County

3000 Lincoln City fans bounce up and down as the final whistle is blown at the Cardiff City Stadium. The 400 mile round trip and early start, for a 12.30pm kick off, has been well worth the time and effort.  Rob Street is reluctantly pushed forward by his colleagues to take the plaudits. He has run his socks off and is attracting interest from Championship clubs.

I keep my head down, as I walk back into Cardiff city centre with the home supporters. My heart is racing ten to the dozen. I ring my brother up to chew over the fat, as he has watched the game on his TV set. We both agree that 'The Lincoln' have been magnificent in the second half. It's been a smash 'n grab with two breakaway goals. The match stats are a joke. The Bluebirds have had 78% possession. I wonder what the analysts and new breed of football supporters will make of that? Get the ball in the box and stop pussyfooting about, is what I say.

My train has been cancelled by that low life train operator X-Country. Sir Keir, please return this joke of a company to public ownership. I nip into a 'Spoons, a short walk away from the railway station. I enjoy a pint of Red ale and a bowl of sticky Korean chicken.

There's all hell let loose on Platform 5. It appears 100 Imps fans have been booted off two private coaches as folk have been caught boozing on them. The police have turned a blind eye, but the coach drivers have been told by the owner to drive back to Lincoln, minus supporters. Women and small children have been abandoned and hung out to dry. An adult single fare to Lincoln is £90. "What did you pay mate?" asks a raging Lincoln fan. "£35 return pal." We don't speak again.

It's chaos and bedlam at Birmingham New Street due to CrossCountry cancelling the previous train. The buffoons are asking folk who are travelling to Burton upon Trent or Derby to catch another train, as we are overloaded. The irony, eh. I finally arrive home at 9pm after a memorable trip. To complete the day the news arrived earlier that the Mighty Millers have beaten the Anstey All Stars in a top of the table clash. What a day to be alive.

Gedling Borough Council felt the wrath of my tongue the other week. Add them to the list of underperforming organisations. I put out the glass bottle recycling bin. It was full to the brim with Ms Moon's Prosecco empties (Trumpy Bolton would be proud) with the odd bottle of Red wine thrown in too. It was embarrassing to be honest, as I had to borrow the next door neighbour's bin too. It was a failed collection, folks. A no show from the bin lorry.

As petty as it seems I decided in a fit of pique to phone up the Council. The lady who picked the phone up had a brain the size of a pea. She would have breezed through a job interview at Carlton Tesco. such was her lack of empathy and zero customer service skills. GBC are quick to send out bills for Council Tax and Green gardening waste pick-ups, but there was no communication on the website or by email to say their bin lorry was off the road. Petty, I know, but this is an organisation who allowed an employee, in accounts, to siphon off £930,000 of Public money over a 19 year period, only for him to pay a fraction of this back.

After work on Tuesday I have tea at Castle Rock's Bread and Bitter on Mapperley Top. Lincolnshire sausage, mustard mash and onion gravy is washed down with a pint of Fire Horse from Alter Ego brewery, which is located in Alfreton. Gedling Miners Welfare are pitting their wits against high-flying Stapleford Town this evening. 

Big Glenn and his quick-witted sidekick, 'Shoey', are both in the clubhouse. Their club, Radford FC are dropping like a stone and are in the mire. I ask Glenn if it's true that he has won an award. He looks non-plussed. Apparently the United Counties League have said that the teamsheet he submits each week has the neatest handwriting in the League. Gedling play with a lot more energy than of late. They go down 2-0 which is a fair reflection of the play.

I'm sat in the wrong seat in Broadway Cinema on Thursday, until it's pointed out to me by an irate usher. It's pitch black in there and I've only got one eye. I'm watching a Brazilian Cannes Film Festival winning production called The Secret Agent, which is a political thriller. 

It's a noisy start to the film due to my neighbouring cinema-goers munching their way through two bags of popcorn. The film is close to three hours long and scored 98% on Rotten Tomatoes. For an hour I haven't a Scooby Do what's going off. Finally things fall into place. I finish the afternoon off with a quick slurp in Neon Raptor.

Tony Mac and I are on the 7.45 train to Sheffield on Friday morning. It's a day out in the historical city of Kingston upon Hull. We still have a few pubs in the Good Beer Guide to tick off. We hook up with Ackers before making the short walk to Thieving Harry's in the marina for a big fry-up.

The first pub is The Ship Inn, a cosy, traditional watering hole with a roaring fire. The landlord/owner is so friendly, like most northerners. He tells us some amusing stories and tips us off on a couple of newly opened pubs.

The day goes by in the blink of an eye. Other great pubs, with friendly faces behind the bar, include: The Alexandra Hotel, Fretwells and George Hotel. I love Hull, especially the Old Town and marina. You should go one day, you won't be disappointed.

We book an UBER to an out of town pub called Pave. The taxi driver is comedy gold. He reels off some famous people he's had in his cab, including Tommy Steele. I ask if he tipped him half a sixpence #oneforthekids. He says that former Blackburn and Hull striker, Henrik Pedersen, changed his tyre when he was a passenger in the cab. "Don't tell Phil Brown (Hull manager) I've done this, he'll kill me as I'm playing tomorrow."

I'm having breakfast in YOLK at 8.30 the following morning, as it's an early kick off at Sincil Bank. It'll be the last chance to see the Imps this season and it's the reason why I have chosen this fixture over Notts v Chesterfield, which is bound to be a cracker. My Woodland mushrooms, poached egg and bacon on sour dough toasted bread is magnifique and a piece of art.

I gaze at the timetable as I wait for my train. Would you Adam 'n Eve it, XCountry have cancelled two consecutive trains to Birmingham due to a shortage of drivers. The train to Lincoln passes by without incident.

I wander up town on my arrival. There is an independent market on High Street. I grab a Portuguese pastry before strolling to the ground along Sincil Bank and through the fan zone. I take my seat with a cup of Yorkshire Tea for company. There is barely a soul in the ground.

Lincoln are 19 unbeaten and the Hatters are battling to stay in a play off spot. Moylan has already stung the hands of the giant Stockport 'keeper before he opens the scoring from close range following a corner. Stockport are impressive, particularly their 2 jacket Dacres-Cogley. The Imps look tired and disjointed after tough trips to Cardiff and Exeter.

A goal has been long coming for Stockport. Former NFFC player Ben Osborn has been pulling all the strings, he strikes the ball into the box which is superbly met with the head of ex Imp Jack Diamond. Parity is deservedly restored.

Stockport smell blood, so Skubala freshens things up by bringing on five subs. Wickens launches the ball upfield it falls to Darwika who strikes a deflected shot into the net. Substitute, Alfie Lloyd ,who I clocked a few months ago on loan at Leyton Orient, races onto a Wickens assist to put the game to bed. The scenes at the end at Sincil Bank are unprecedented. I just hope their tired legs get themselves over the finishing line.

Attendance: 9,759

Player of the Match: Sonny Bradley

Best Song I've Heard on the Radio This Week: Borderline, by Tame Impala

Best Real Ale Supped This Week: Black Band Porter, from Kirkstall Brewery, Wm Hawkes, in Hull.

Cardiff City 0-2 Lincoln City

I trudge down the steps of the Derek Pavis Stand at Notts County's Meadow Lane ground with disgruntled Pies fans. Grimsby Town, with their gamesmanship and time-wasting tactics, have stolen three points.

I bump into Kimberley Al and Stabbo Gaz, in a packed to the rafters King Billy pub in Sneinton. They are raging about the sending off of Lee Ndlovu by an inexperienced referee.  It's a decision that turned the game on its head. I sink a pint of Lenton Lane's Cloudburst and then disappear into the night - well back home actually, as I'm on a ten hour shift in the morning (4 am-2pm)

I love a Tuesday night game; it breaks up the week. Jonny Hand has very kindly offered to pick me up on Westdale Lane. What a guy Jonny is. He selflessly gives up his time for Carlton Town. Not only does he volunteer to help out when the pitch is waterlogged, but he also spends hours upon hours down the Stoke Lane ground carrying out general maintenance, painting and groundworks. The merry band of Millers are lucky to have folk(s) like him.

What should be a straight forward journey turns into a trip from hell for many. A lorry has hit a bridge in Tollerton on the A606, there is an incident on Remembrance Way in Clifton and worst of all a car fire on the M1. We tip up in Shepshed 90 minutes later. The news is that half the players are stuck in tailbacks and there's no sign of the referee.

Shepshed is a club I have visited and followed many, many times. The Big Man and I had a mate called Iain Screaton, who was Shepshed's skipper for a few seasons. He was once sent off by Sian Massey on a Friday night at Butthole Lane. You may remember Massey and her innocent involvement in the sacking of Sky TV's sexist presenters Andy Gray and the ghastly Richard Keys, after correctly calling an offside decision.

It's announced that the game is to kick off at 8.45 pm. Many supporters and committee members have turned around and headed back home. Club sponsor and top racing tipster, Jon Gilbert and 'Biscuit' have ended up at Quorn, where Anstey Town are playing. Biscuit probably punched in the wrong postcode on Sat Nav.

At first, the late start doesn't appear to affect the visitors. But they are second best to everything in the final half an hour of the first half. There's no energy or creativity and they live a very charmed life. The Millers are in debt to the best shot-stopper in Step 4 football. 'Felix the Cat' bails out his team mates, just like he did when Shepshed visited El Stadio Stokeld earlier in the season. The woodwork is their best friend too.

Football is a cruel game, totally against the run of play Carlton take the lead through a clinical strike from Ash Chambers. We're unsure if it will save them all a bollocking at half time, as they have been miles off it. They wrestle control in the second half and look to add to their tally. The goal before half time deflates Shepshed and takes the sting out of their tail.

Spring is in the air on Thursday morning. I clear the garage out and crank up the lawn mower to give the grass its first cut of the year. I'll scarify it after it's dried out, when I can get some feed and weed on it.

I'm out again tonight, at a Notts Cricket Lovers' Meeting at Trent Bridge Cricket Ground. I usually fancy a couple of scoops on a Thursday teatime. I hook up briefly, in Junkyard, with Dean Gripton and Casually Dan. We chew the fat over Carlton Town's big game at Anstey Town on Saturday. I sup a couple of craft ales from the Warpig Brewery, who are from Copenhagen. They have a tap takeover here.

Andy Afford is a guest speaker at Cricket Lovers Society. He was a left-arm spinner for Notts in the 1980s when Clive Rice was captain. He took over 400 wickets for the club. He later became a journalist and publisher. There is a humbling moment, during the question and answer part of the night, when he is lost for words and clearly moved, when asked about Clive Rice's influence on him. His dry humour is lost on some in the room.

Ms Moon mentioned a few weeks ago that she was planning to visit her sister in Malvern for the weekend. I checked the football fixtures immediately and couldn't believe my luck where Lincoln City were playing. I've been trying to complete the 92 grounds for what seems like an age now. On Saturday Cardiff City's Stadium will be my 90th.

I need a proper breakfast to fill my stomach, as I'm unlikely to eat until I check- in at my hotel in Cardiff City centre later this evening. The Hungry Pumpkin, in the Lace Market,  duly oblige. The Italian owners are a great lads.

The downside of travelling by train to Wales is that the rail operator is Cross Country Trains. They were recently announced as 20th in the League table (bottom). They make EMR look world-class. Incredibly we limp into Cardiff Central on time(ish).

Another one of my hobbies is to visit as many CAMRA Heritage two star and three star pubs in the United Kingdom. There are two in Cardiff, so I might as well make hay whilst the sun shines. It's a couple of miles walk to the Royal Oak, but well worth it. A lot of boxers used to spa here back in the day.

I tick a few pubs off on my way back into town. The Pen and Wig and Tiny Rebel tap house, a brewery based in Newport, are the pick of the bunch. The Golden Cross is another pearler. It dates back to 1863 and is Cardiff's oldest gay bar.

I eat at Leonardo's hotel in the city centre. It's nowt to write home about and neither is my room. It's lights out at 10 pm as I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow.

The breakfast is first-class and I'm feeling fine and dandy. It's a long walk to the ground, but you get to see so much more, such as the rugby stadia and street art. Close to Cardiff City's ground is a mural of Gary Speed who passed away in November 2011, at 42 years old. What a great player he was.

There's a plaque at Cardiff's Stadium of another iconic football figure. On 10th September, 1985, Wales and Scotland were toughing out a World Cup qualifier at Ninian Park. Scotland manager, Jock Stein, was taken ill at the end of the game and passed away in the club's medical room.

I'm through the turnstile 90 minutes before kick off. I want to savour the build up and atmosphere. Lincoln City will go above Cardiff should they win today. I love a DJ who wants to play the stuff he or she likes, rather than the commercial tosh forced upon 'em like Freed From Desire (yawn). Our Man on the decks plays Panic by The Smiths and Fascination Street by The Cure.

Both sets of fans ramp up the atmosphere in the stadium. Over 3,000 have hit the road early from Lincoln for the 400 mile round trip. Boy oh boy these Welsh fans can sing. Lincoln settle quickly in a cagey opening. They are happy to surrender possession to the League leaders.

Cardiff find some rhythm and start to get the ball wide. There's a five minute spell where Imps 'keeper George Wickens keeps them in the game with some excellent saves. The half time whistle comes at a good time for the visitors. I text my brother to share my anxiety.

Nottingham-born Lincoln captain Tendai Darirwa has been outstanding and reads the game like a book. He plays his role in Lincoln's opener. Street shrugs off a challenge, House plays a reverse pass back to his partner, 'Quality Street' does the rest. The Cardiff fans sing no more.

Lincoln are magnificent. Gaps appear as Cardiff abandon the safety of tippy tappy ball. McGrandles puts in Jeffries who drives forward, cuts inside and unleashes a shot that nestles in the corner of the net. The away following are bouncing 'The Cardiff' leave in their droves. 

Attendance: 27,280

Player of the Match: Tendai Darikwa

Best Record Heard on the Radio This Week: Jack Penate, Tonight's Today

Best Beer Supped This Week: Mumbles Haze, Mumbles Brewery, in Swansea

Notts County 0-1 Grimsby Town

I exit Field Mill onto Quarry Lane as I head towards the A60. The mighty Imps have extended their unbeaten run to 16 games after a 2-0 victory over Mansfield Town. I can hear the Lincoln fans heralding their Ukrainian powerhouse central midfielder, 21 year old Ivan Varfolomeev. It is said that City paid (undisclosed fee) close to £300,000 for his services from Czech republic side FC Slovan Liberec.

I stand at the bus stop with a group of Mansfield Town fans waiting for the Pronto bus back to Nottingham. I keep my head down as I hand over £3 cash to the driver, who has a mentor on board. We're only 10 minutes into our journey when I hear a commotion downstairs. The mentor is on his walkie-talkie to Control to report that the driver's dashboard lights are on the blink. We stop at Larch Farm for what seems an eternity before being told to leave the bus and catch another one that's following behind. Add to the Mickey Mouse list Stagecoach and Blakey from On the Buses.

I finally alight the replacement bus outside a Grade II listed Heritage Pub called The Vale, in Woodthorpe. The main room is closed to pub goers for a private function. In another dimly lit room a small group of rugby fans are watching the fag end of the Six Nations game between Wales and Scotland. They burst into song at the final whistle. I gate a pint of Guinness as they sing the chorus to Flower of Scotland.

I treat Ms Moon to lunch on Sunday afternoon. I've booked a table for two at the highly-rated Alora on Mapperley Top. We've enjoyed the small-plate, around the world tapas dishes before, but have never had their much-talked about Sunday roast. The treacle-cured rump of beef, with all the trimmings, is to die for. Despite preferring quality over quantity, there's no room for a dessert.

We notice, as we wander back to the car, that Tamasha, an Asian fusion restaurant, has changed its name to Mood. It was recently all over social media. To steal a line from the 1970s sitcom, The Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin, there was a 'cock up on the catering front', on of all days, Valentine's night. Star-crossed lovers were left outside in the cold and the rain because tables were overbooked or diners outstayed their welcome. It has changed its name, since that omnishambles, to Mood.

I'm grazing on a 3% Kernel craft ale table beer at Barrel Drop on Monday evening as I wait for Carlton Town's Jack of all trades, Alan Murphy, to rock up from a late shift at work. We're off to a gig at Rescue Rooms on Goldsmith Street, in Nottingham. Older readers will remember Mortimer's Cavern and Isabella's night spot on the same street from back in the day.

The headline act is a band called Sorry who hail from north London and who are not to be confused with the sitcom starring Timothy Lumsden, who was played by pint-sized comedian Ronnie Corbett. Sorry, the band, recently released a brilliant new single called Echoes. Give it a whirl folks, it's a beauty. They are ably supported by Hank, who are also from 'The Smoke.'

I'm back up Mapperley Top on Tuesday. There's time to kill before Gedling Miners Welfare take on Swallownest, from South Yorkshire, in the United Counties League. I have a burger at Old Flower Shop. I was hoping it was grill night as the gammon in there is on another level.

Poor old Gedling are on a terrible run of form. I'm still doing my customary lap of the ground when they fall behind after 30 seconds. It's a comedy of errors and sad to see them 5-1 down at the break. What do you say as a manager in the changing room after a horror show like that? The company is good though. Faggsy, Nigel Harlow and the Goulder brothers are in attendance.

On Thursday a blog legend returns to these pages. I have arranged to meet Mr Trumpy Bolton for a few scoops at the Stratford Haven in West Bridgford. He's doing his bit for the Treasury and hospitality industry by announcing his retirement. He's already planning trips to Devon (Exeter City) to watch his beloved Leicester City, should they be relegated from the Championship, as he expects they will be.

I grab a coffee and bacon and egg cob in town on Friday on my way to the railway station. I've cocked up myself today as I've double-booked. Sleaford Mods are showcasing their new album The Demise of Planet X at Rock City this evening. Foolishly, I arranged a Jolly Boys outing with the Keyworth lads in the East of England.

I jump on the Norwich bound train with Matt Limon and Coops before joining up with Chopper Harris and Ackers on a Greater Anglia choo choo bound for Stansted Airport. We alight at the market town of Bury St Edmunds where I've been a few times including watching their Non League team.

The town is well known for its Greene King Brewery and British Sugar. We visit a GK pub called The Nutshell, which is one of many boozers in the U.K. who claim to be the smallest. Matt Limon has mapped out a superb itinerary which are mostly Good Beer Guide entries. We return to the cathedral city of Ely to visit a few more. The pick of the bunch is Drayman's Son, a Three Blind Mice taphouse. We get stuck into a few crafts before the journey home with a can(s) in hand. 

On Saturday I meet the artist formerly known as 'The Keyworth Georgie Best', his partner Becky and more importantly my six week old granddaughter Romy, for brunch in the Trent Bridge Inn, in West Bridgford. Little 'un only stays awake for ten minutes, but manages a few smiles for Grandad. She melts my heart, each and every time I see her.

I've arranged for a pre-match drink with a mate I've known for over 50 years. Leggy is a great lad and is a legend not only at South Wolds School, but also at Keyworth Cricket Club where he has dedicated hours and hours of his time coaching and volunteering on the groundworks side of the club. Every Club needs a Leggy, what a smashing lad he is.

He claims to have not watched Notts County for over 25 years despite being a Pies fan. We enter the Derek Pavis Stand to the crashing drum beat of New Order's Blue Monday. The Magpies still have Palmer, Norburn and Jatta as notable absentees. Grimsby will need to win here to stay with the chasing pack for a play off spot.

The other week, at Sincil Bank, a little girl sat next to me colouring in her book for the entire first half. I wish I had that book as it would be far more entertaining than what these two sides dish up for 46 minutes. The Mariners put everyone behind the ball as they look to nick one on the break. They nearly do, twice, at the beginning of the second half, but Pies 'keeper Belshaw makes two smart saves.

The time-wasting, by the visitors, is cringeworthy. as Notts get on top. The goalie rolls around to break up play and more importantly, momentum. The Kop ain't happy and direct their venom at the Grimsby stopper. The game-changer is on 76 minutes. A weary Lee Ndlovu clumsily lunges in after losing control of the ball, with his studs showing up. The disappointment is, rather than the official taking timeout to consider what action to take, he instead immediately brandishes a red card from his back pocket. 'Fagin's' (Martin Patterson) gameplan is shattered into pieces. 

Moments later, having only being on the pitch for seconds. the Notts County 22 jacket leaves Mariners winger Charles Vernam in acres of space. He shrugs off a challenge before finding the corner of the net with a fine strike. The away following can't believe their luck. In fairness what they lack in ideas and quality they more than make up with effort and endeavour.

Grimsby see out approaching 100 minutes (time they wasted) with not too many scares. It's smash and grab and not particularly pleasing on the eye. County need those three absentees back sharpish or it's going to be another nailbiting play off scenario again.

Attendance: 12,487

Player of the Match: Leggy

Best Ale I've Supped This Week: A Tribe Called Quest, Arbor Ales, from Bristol

Best Song I've Heard on the Radio This Week: Kneecap, Liars Tale.

Mansfield Town 0-2 Lincoln City

I peg it from Sincil Bank, down Scorer Street, where former Arsenal, Nottingham Forest, Leeds Utd and Sheffield Wednesday striker, Lee Chapman, was born. How the Imps could have done with his finishing prowess today against jammy  Bolton Wanderers. 22 shots and yet only one goal to show for their craft and guile.

I engage in conversation on the journey home with some Trotters fans. They admit they got out of jail and are happy with a point. The train stops at Carlton. I slog it up the hill after three days away from HQ. There's no warm welcome from Ms Moon on my arrival back at Chez Palms. She's proper got the face on as the Six Nations Rugby Union thingy has killed her Saturday night TV entertainment schedule. Scotland v England or Michael McIntyre - if only there was a third option. 

We have a lazy Sunday. I order three cook books from World of Books - there's going to be plenty of stir frys, pasta dishes and slow cooker meals once they drop through the letterbox and onto the doormat. I had a productive Saturday evening. I acted quickly in securing a ticket for the Mansfield v Lincoln game at Field Mill. With the Stags causing a Cup upset at Turf Moor, the match is bound to be a sell out. I'll be sat on my hands in the home end.

I'm still hard at it trying to complete the 92 Football League grounds and revisit clubs who have new stadia or hold a special place in English football heritage and culture. My mate, Dean, is Head of EFL Research for the computer game Football Manager. He's aware I've not been to the 'new' Doncaster Rovers ground.

I jump in an Uber after shutting up shop at the best newsagent in Arnold. The taxi ride takes me on a trip down memory lane. The journey is through the village of Calverton where I spent many happy years 'working' at the coal mine. It's where I met my mate Chippy Fryer, who is now my boss at the paper shop. We used to play golf every week at Springwater Golf Club. Ironically, it's across the road from the  Chinese restaurant, which has a large water feature in the car park. It's where the driver drops me off. Dean is travelling from the village of Lowdham where Notts County's all-time great, centre forward, Tommy Lawton, once ran a pub that's still standing, called the Magna Charta.

We're parked up at the ground an hour before kick off. We enjoy a pie and a drink whilst we catch up on the team news. There's some nice artwork with a nod to the past of some of the legends that have played for Donny Rovers. Charlie Williams made 151 appearances for the club and was one of the first black players to play professional football after the Second World War. He later became famous when he became a comic on the ITV show, The Comedians - his catchphrase was "me old flower." He used to respond to racist hecklers by shouting out: "shut up or I'll buy a house next door to you." How sad is that?

Former Rovers goalkeeper, Harry Gregg, is also remembered. He played for the club 94 times in the 1950s. He joined the 'Busby Babes' at Manchester United in 1957, for what was a world record fee for a goalkeeper at that time. He became one of the heroes of the Munich Air Disaster, helping save the lives of some of his colleagues, including Bobby Charlton, by dragging them out of the burning wreckage.

We're sat in the Press box and to be honest there's not much to report on apart from a successfully converted penalty by Lee Molyneux. Huddersfield Town are disappointing. They have little threat in front of goal, with the irony being that they have farmed out striker Joe Taylor to Wigan on loan, who is scoring goals for fun. Thanks by the way Dean, it's another ground ticked off.

I've just the one midweek day off work this week. I make good use of it by cleaning the house from top to bottom and preparing a slow cooker dinner which is braised beef with soy and mushrooms. Cooking did involve a walk down to the worst supermarket in Western Europe (Carlton Tesco). But I'm pleased to report that the visit passed without any incidents, apart from an old lady's bank card not working at the tills. 

There's always time for a scoop or two on a day off. I slope off to Junkyard, a laid-back craft ale house, located down an alley off Weekday Cross. I enjoy a couple of quality crafts from Beak in Berkshire and Garage from Barcelona. A third of a pint of Centaur Army from Neon Raptor hits the spot and sees me off for the evening.

It's Saturday morning and we both enjoy a few extra hours in bed. The rain has cleared and the sun is shining as I place my football bet. I continue to read the Les Dawson autobiography called A Clown Too Many, that Mark E Smith from The Fall recommended. Dawson tells a good yarn and writes beautifully. It's an incredibly sad tale of his early life living in the slums of Collyhurst, in Manchester, to a succession of failed jobs at the Co-op and Hoover, where he sold vacuums to customers in Moss Side. It's a riveting read and well worth £3, the price of a bus ride.

Ms Moon very kindly drops me off on the A60. I nearly nodded off listening to Radio 2 DJ Emma Willis. The BBC play it safe these days by hiring bland presenters with non personas. I do have a pub to tick off in the town called The Pavilion, which is a long walk away and not open until 2 pm. I want to watch this game with a clear head. I walk up Quarry Lane and go through the turnstile of the Ian Greaves Upper Stand. It's only 1.45pm.

It gives the Mansfield Town DJ the opportunity to spin a few of his favourite tunes and he doesn't disappoint. We're treated to Mia by Wunderhorse and Shawshank by The Royston Club - it's like being at Carlton Town.

'The Lincoln' arrive on the back of a 15 match unbeaten run. They are brimming with confidence, but are without Freddie Draper, who was exceptional last week. The pitch is a quagmire. Arteta's Arsenal aren't going to enjoy it here, in the FA Cup, in a few weeks time. Both teams struggle to control the ball and stay on their feet. 

Lincoln control the game in the first half. Their 21 year old Ukrainian midfielder Ivan Varfarlomeev is pulling all the strings in the middle of the park. The Imps get the goal they deserve shortly before the break from the penalty spot after Jack 'Magic Man' Moylan is brought down. Street makes no mistake. At least it means the gobby youth sat in front of me pipes down after moaning about Lincoln's foul play and direct tactics for 45 minutes.

Nigel Clough gets stuck into his troops at the break and makes a couple of changes. It seems to work as the Stags up their game. They are unlucky to see two penalty appeals waved away by the official. A couple of shots whistle over the bar or go wide of the upright. 

Lincoln look lethargic. The two substitutes, Jefferies and Bayliss, combine to put the game to bed. 2-0 flatters them but it won't bother the noisy 2000 fans behind the goal who have backed their team all day. I stand on my own at the end to watch the coaching staff, players and fans celebrate as one. I've been sat on my hands for over 95 minutes.

Attendance: 9,773

Player of the Match: Sonny Bradley

Best Record I Heard on the Radio This Week: New Leaf, The Reds, Pinks and Purples

Best Real Ale I've Supped This Week: Centaur Army, Pastry Stout from Neon Raptor

Lincoln City 1-1 Bolton Wanderers

The Wigan fans were factually incorrect when they sang "you're getting sacked in the morning" at their crestfallen manager, Ryan Lowe, who was standing only yards away from the Latics following, at Peterborough United's London Road ground. He was in fact sacked in the evening, just hours after the 6-1 shellacking. Wigan supporters drown their sorrows on the 5.30 pm Norwich to Liverpool train. I bump into a Blackburn Rovers fan on his way back from a lunchtime kick off at Carrow Road. He bravely displays gallows humour at a club that has been in freefall for a number of years now.

I was excited for some Tuesday night action at either Carlton Town v Anstey Town or Gedling Miners' Welfare versus Big Glenn's Radford FC. A deluge of rain puts paid to that. I scan the screen listings at Broadway Cinema, where I clock a 5.45pm showing of Saipan. That'll do for me.

The film is about the epic spat and long-running feud between Ireland manager Mick McCarthy and skipper Roy Keane. It all comes to a head in the Western Pacific island of Saipan, prior to the 2002 FIFA World Cup. The film, which includes a masterclass in acting from Steve Coogan and Eanna Hardwicke, does not shed McCarthy nor Keane in a particularly good light.

The final set-to, during a team meeting, is a gripping watch. Keane is asked to pack his bags after a number of tantrums. It's the first time during the film that there has been a show of strength from Big Mick. He comes across as weak and anxious. He won't be happy to have been portrayed that way. All I remember from that time ago was Keane being chased by a pack of Press reporters and photographers whilst walking his Labrador dog, Trigger, close to his home in Cheshire.

I'm back in town on Wednesday, with my backpack on, as I'm on a three day roadtrip. Ms Moon is working down in Brighton, so I'm making hay whilst the sun shines. Actually it's raining again as I push open the door of Slice 'n Brew. Only outside tables are available. Sod that for a game of soldiers. I get lucky at Rudy's where I grab a bar table and a salami pizza with a hot honey dip.

I jump on the 6.45 train to Grantham after a last minute platform change. East Midlands Train staff are utter buffoons - how the chuff didn't I manage to land a job there? I suppose only having one eye might have been a hindrance. I arrive in York bang on time thanks to LNER. The rest of the evening is spent at the Lord Collingwood pub, in Upper Poppleton, where my brother and sister-in-law win the quiz.

One of my hobbies is to visit Good Pub Guide entries. The inclement weather curtails any chance of a walk to a nearby National Trust property. My brother, Mark, and I, head in the car towards the West Yorkshire village of Otley, where former England rugby union player, Mike Tindall, was born. He is married to Zara Phillips, daughter of Anne, Princess Royal.

Otley is a thriving market town that lies on the River Wharfe. It is said to have the greatest number of pubs per head of population. Three will do today for Our Mark and Sticky. The Black Horse Hotel is the pick of the bunch. It has a Victorian interior and a wooden floor. I enjoy a pint of Porter accompanied by a steak and kidney pie that's soaked in gravy. 

I'm up and away, the following day, after a hearty breakfast that's rustled up expertly by Our Kid. I change trains at Leeds and jump on a Northern towards the town of Skipton. I alight at Bingley where I'm met with drizzle and snow that has settled up in the hills. I mentioned to my niece's fella last night that I was visiting Bingley as in the Bradford and Bingley Building Society - he said he'd never heard of them. They became part of the Santander Group in 2008. I tick off three boozers before heading down to Saltaire.

Saltaire is a UNESCO-listed Victorian industrial village. If you love your history it's well worth a visit. It was founded by the industrialist Sir Titus Salt, who built housing for his mill workers. The English painter, David Hockney, exhibits many of his paintings at a gallery in Salts Mill.

I enjoy a few drinks, including a visit to SALT Beer factory, before wandering down to Shipley where I chance upon the pub of the day The Beehive. After a period of closure it reopened in 2023. It's a proper local with a vast range of cask ales available.

I finish the night up in Doncaster, as I wanted to stay somewhere cheap and cheerful on my way to Lincoln, where hotel prices are sky high for a Friday night stay. I check-in at a Premier Inn before making the short walk to Doncaster Brewery Tap House. The room is welcoming and warm. I down a 5.3% pale ale that is a collaboration with a USA brewery. I'm tucked up in bed by 9 pm.

The unlimited breakfast ain't the best folks, but the staff are so attentive and courteous. I change trains at Retford having spoken briefly to a groundhopper from Grimsby who was on his way down south to watch Romford FC versus Great Wakering Rovers in the Essex Senior League.

I chat to an Imps fan from Newcastle on the train station platform. He says he is enjoying the ride and not nervous about today's game. I mention that I've watched Bolton quite a few times in recent seasons, and that they have been poor on each occasion.

I can confirm that Steep Hill is still a bastard to walk up. I'm sweating cobs by the time I reach the summit - well actually it's the newly opened Organ Grinder, a Blue Monkey taphouse that has taken over the former premises of BeerHeadZ on Eastgate. I quaff a pint of Chocolate Orange stout. On my way back down the hill I smirk at kids having tantrums and folk gasping for air as they ascend towards Lincoln Cathedral, that's shining like a beacon in the early afternoon sunshine.

I grab a baseball cap at the superstore. I'm plonked in my seat above the tunnel an hour before kick off. The best track the DJ plays is Turn the Page by The Streets. The Red Imps are on a long unbeaten run. They were bloody awful the last time I saw them at Rotherham United's New York City Stadium. They were missing a few that day and are at full strength today.

The game is a sell out and the atmosphere is electric. Lincoln come out of the traps the quickest. Jack 'Magic Man' Moylan megs a defender, who he then runs around on the inside of, before unleashing a ferocious shot that crashes off the woodwork. Moments later he goes close again. Bolton are rapid on the break. Moylan opens the scoring after a breathtaking move, he nonchalantly guides his first time shot home. Bolton are on the ropes but somehow hang in there. Freddie Draper is strong as an ox and putting a solid shift in, Bolton can't cope with him. Their coach Steven Schumacher spends most of the first half bleating in the ear of the fourth official. To be fair the referee has dished out a few soft yellow cards.

The second half follows a similar pattern. Lincoln are first to every ball and physical in the challenge. It's only when they sub off three exhausted players that we see a change in the pattern of play. Former Imp Ethan Erhahon has a wand of a left peg. He curls in a cross with pace, Sam Dalby does the rest. 22 shots, with 10 on target, count for nothing. Bolton have got out of jail. Their large following will breathe a huge sigh of relief that they have nicked a point.

Attendance: 10,235

Player of the Match: Jack Moylan

Best Song Heard on the Radio This Week: Arlo Parks, 2SIDED

Best Real Ale Supped: Black Forest Gateaux, Sunbeam, from Leeds, in The Beehive, Shipley