Linby Colliery Welfare 1-1 Derby Gazers

It's 1984 and I'm standing on the Sincil Bank open terrace with my dad, Frank, and best pal, Kev Flinton. Lincoln City are playing First Division West Ham United in a League Cup tie. Derek Bell equalised for the Imps in the 82nd minute. The ground is shaking in celebration. Dad slopes off to the chippy to get a fish supper, with five minutes remaining. Kev and I have the misfortune of bumping into a pretty cheesed off WHU Inter City Firm in the backstreets of Lincoln. Kev takes a punch to the nose as we both scarper up the High Street towards my nanna's house.

One week later and we are down 'the Smoke' for the replay. We do the usual tour of London including a few hours in Soho as they have clubs licensed to sell alcohol all day. We've just turned 18 years old. West Ham fans make a fuss of us in their social club and ply us with drinks. What we hadn't noticed, due to all the fun we were having, was that it's been hosing it down with rain all day. Fans are walking in a different direction to the ground. "Game OFF mate, waterlogged pitch", says a Cockney.

We return a week later to Upton Park, where we lose at the fag end of extra-time to a Ray Stewart spot kick. That bastard never missed a penno. The lovely, unhelpful Metropolitan Police, as usual, were on top form. We're forced to travel with the Lincoln convoy to Barking despite asking if it was okay to catch a train to St Pancras. I arrive home at 2.30 am, but I'm still at my desk at Linby Colliery maintenance office four hours later.

Fast forward almost 45 years and you could knock me down with a feather. Little old Lincoln are playing West Ham United in the Championship. I'd fancy giving them a game if it was 11 v 11. Unfortunately the Imps are down to nine men after just 15 minutes. Yep, we take a hammering. Those cheeky, chirpy away fans sing " Champions of Europe, you'll never sing that." 657 Squadron, in reply sang, "Champions of League One ... you'll never sing that."

On Tuesday evening I head into town straight from work. I've an hour to kill before Notts County play Nottingham Forest Under 21s in the English Football League Trophy - it's a night out innit. I've not been to my favourite independent pizza restaurant in ages.

Slice 'n Brew was born in lockdown in a backyard, in Sherwood, a suburb of Nottingham. It has created a unique blend of New York and Neapolitan pizzas. I plump for a Sopperassatta Salami accompanied with a truffle and Parmesan dip. It's yummy yummy.

I peg it through the Meadows to the game. A lot of fans oppose this competition and tonight they have clearly voted with their feet. Less than 2000 have showed up. It's literally men versus boys. I'm not sure what coaches at academies and 'B teams' are planning in their sessions, but heading and tackling should be a given. Forest are sub-standard at both. Nobody catches my eye for them.

The highlight of the evening is when the 'County' DJ plays How Soon is Now? By The Smiths. It's about Morrissey growing up and highlighting his struggles on coping with anxiety, shyness and awkwardness during adolescence.

Pies manager Martin Patterson is prowling in his technical area. We call him 'Fagin', from Oliver Twist, at the shop. He's giving 'Moneyball' signing, Luka Smyth, some tough love and is continually on his back. Smyth couldn't trap a beach ball in a telephone box tonight, but his key performance indicator is scoring goals; his stats suggest he will, once the big Australian settles in.

It's all kicking off in Emmerdale Farm. The recently deceased Jimmy King is about to be laid to rest, It emerges that the berk had got behind with his life insurance payments. The Hotten Building Society won't be coughing up or paying out any lolly. Add to this, his old flame (Patsy Kensit) has turned up on the scene. "She's had more blokes than I've had hot dinners" I remark from the sofa. Ms Moon says I'm not to confuse fact with fiction and that Kensit is only acting in the soap opera.

I have a siesta on Thursday afternoon after a ridiculously early start. I'm in my favourite craft ale bar in Nottingham by 4 pm. In Junkyard I enjoy a hazy pale ale from Polly's, a brewery from Mold, in North Wales. Tony Mac and I catch the train to Derby, just shy of 5 pm. It would have been quicker on the bus, as a slug must have been the Cross Country driver today - they are bottom of the league table for a reason folks.

GANS, a post-punk and industrialist-alternative duo from Birmingham and the Black Country are playing at the Hairy Dog in Derby this evening. We pot a few ales at The Alexandra, The Brunswick and Exeter Arms. They are playing some awful, loud death metal trash in the bar of the Hairy Dog before the lads come on. It's a blistering high energy set which also includes a musician who can play the flute and saxophone. I'm worn out just watching the set. I flop into bed at just after midnight.

I've a day off on Friday, but there's no rest for the wicked. I clean the house and mow the lawn. I can't put off the dreaded trip to Western Europe's Worst Supermarket. I'm usually wound up like a coiled spring before I walk through the front doors of Carlton Tesco. Radio CT is playing 'We Are Family' by Sister Sledge - MSR family yes, Tesco Fam ... nooooo .... never.

Whilst Ms Moon is still at work I take a bus journey into town. It's been an age since I visited the Canning Circus area of Nottingham. I enjoy a pint of Cinder Toffee at Blue Monkey's Organ Grinder. Just around the corner is Lincoln Green's Sir John Borlase Warren. I ask for a pint of Marion, one of their own brews. I'm charged £6.60. Jeepers creepers, I thought I was back in Soho for a moment circa 1982. It's homemade fillet o' fish burger for tea - I can't 'arf make 'em.

The Mighty Millers (Carlton Town) are away at Grantham Town today. The company will be great but the leisure centre ground is bloody awful. It's bad enough having one eye, but you need a pair of binoculars to see over the athletics track towards the pitch.

I'm aiming to write a book when I retire. It will include a visit to some of the great grounds or places of interest that I hold close to my heart. Ms Moon drops me off outside Lincoln Green's Station Hotel in the old mining town of Hucknall.

Lincoln Green have a silky smooth well-rounded chocolate and blackcurrant Porter called Tuck (£2.10 cheaper than last night). I graze on that whilst watching a friendly, grey pitbull terrier pup make a fuss of all the customers (except me). I walk up towards Hucknall High Street. I pay my respects at the mining memorials and flick the V's at a micro-pub called Byron's Rest, that's owned by a Reform councillor - potholes and boats are all those tossers talk about.

I tip up at the ground five minutes before kick off. The referee is having a strop. He's blown his whistle twice and knocked on the dressing room door, but Linby are slow in coming out to play. I've never come across the visitors Derby Gazers. They are lightning quick down the flanks and take a lead following a faux pas in defence.

The biting wind forces me into the clubhouse at the break. Lincoln surrendered a two goal lead at Millwall and played out the final 15 minutes with ten men. We'll take a point at the Lions' den after the 6-0 mauling on Wednesday. My brother and I are booked in for the Imps' visit to Loftus Road in early November.

Linby fight back in the second half. They deserve a point after scoring from a header following a corner. It's been a lovely afternoon and a trip down memory lane. I worked at Linby Colliery from 1982-1985 and forged some great friendships. I'll never forget the holidays in Ibiza, Corfu and Tenerife. I can't 'arf pick'em.

Attendance: Head Count - Over 60

Men of the Match GANS, in Derby

Best Beer Drank This Week: Tuck Porter, Lincoln Green

Pub of the Week: Station Hotel, Hucknall

Best Record Heard on the Radio: F.O.R.E.V.E.R. The Big Moon

Alfreton Town 2-3 Bury FC

I love a two day trip up to the north west of England. Cheshire and Greater Manchester have a strong line up of top breweries. The Good Beer Guide 2027 is our companion. As a newly paid up member of CAMRA I get my grubby hands on the latest edition and plan an itinerary for our next outing.

Tony Mac is tucked away in a corner of Nottingham Railway station, warming his hands on a cappuccino. There's always nervousness and anxiety on whether an EMR train will actually rock up at the station or run on time. Last weekend they plummeted to an all time low, posting an early morning tweet to say due to staff sickness their customer service line would be closed. Andy Burnham, please brandish a Red card.

The 7.45 Norwich to Liverpool Lime Street train runs without any drama. There is a 'safety inspection' on our connecting train from Manchester Oxford Road to Urmston, a town in Trafford. It's where Coronation Street actress Eileen Derbyshire was born. For over 45 years she played the character Emily Bishop in the soap opera. She celebrated her 95th birthday last week. 

A large Wetherspoon breakfast is taken at Tim Bobbin, a pub named after an English caricaturist, who used to travel around local pubs drawing pictures of families and charging them per head to appear in each portrait. 

The Cheshire town of Warrington is only a short train ride away. A cheery and chatty landlord pours a Jericho Blonde from Settle Brewery. On the Saturday morning of 20th March, 1993, two bombs, planted by the IRA in litter bins, in Warrington town centre, exploded within minutes of each other. Three year old Johnathan Ball, who was shopping for a Mother's Day card with his babysitter, died at the scene. The life support machine of 12 year old Tim Parry was switched off, five days later. He'd nipped into town to buy a pair of Everton football shorts. 54 people were injured. The bombs were placed in cast iron litter bins which caused large amounts of shrapnel.

It's my first time in Warrington for over 13 years. The town centre renovation in Time Square is impressive. The award-winning market is a gem of a place. The two storey building has 50 independent traders selling amongst other produce: meat, fish, cheese, pies, fruit, jewellery and perfume. It has two bars and food outlets with a choice of Thai and Chinese dishes as well as Italian delicacies and burger joints. We enjoy some beer at Hop Emporium and Costello's.

There is an incident on our return to Greater Manchester. The beer guide says that Flixton Conservative Club is open at 2 pm. We both wouldn't be seen dead at any Tory institute, but sadly drop our pants at a book tick off. There are people playing bowls behind the club and lights are on in the bar with movement behind the beer pumps. Despite banging on the windows and knocking on the front door, at well past 2 pm there's Bob Hope of getting in. I'll leave a review on Google when I've calmed down.

We spend the rest of the day jumping on trams and trains, with the odd UBER getting us back on track. There are two 'pub of the day' contenders. The Grade II listed Lamb Hotel, in Eccles, with its carved oak traditional bar, green tiles and grand staircase is jaw dropping. But we finish the night in the outstanding Magnet, in Stockport. It has recently been named in the Telegraph's publication 'Top 500 Pubs in England.' I finish with a half pint of Milson from Manchester brewery Sureshot.

God knows why, but I have a restless night's sleep. It's very strange as I've plenty to look forward to. Is it the different surroundings or just too many varieties of beer? The overhead lines in the Stockport area have taken a battering during the early hours of the morning. Luckily our journey to Poynton, in Cheshire is unaffected. It's another 'Spoons breakfast to set us up for the day.

Just around the corner from the pub is St George's Church. Laid to rest there is one of the most influential figures in the history of Manchester United Football Club. The Welshman, Jimmy Murphy, was assistant manager to Matt Busby in the late 1950s. He didn't travel with the rest of the United team for their European Cup tie versus Red Star Belgrade in February 1958. The plane, full of players, staff and journalists crashed on the Munich runway after a failed take-off. 23 passengers died.

Jimmy Murphy stayed at home. He was also the manager of Wales, who had a game the same night. Busby told him to lead his country. Murphy, a humble man, rebuilt the club in Busby's absence. He was an amazing human being. He attended all the funerals and comforted all the bereaved. At his request, shortly before his death he asked that no mention of Manchester United be written upon his grave. He wanted to be remembered, just like anybody else, as a family man, a working class man. I remove my hat in the pouring rain as we both pay our respects to one of Manchester United's greatest ever legends.

We race around Cheshire before returning to Withington in the city centre. Just around the corner from a Hydes establishment called Victoria Inn is the Marcus Rashford mural. I'm a big fan of the man and the footballer. I hope he gets his career back on track and that he starts to wear a smile on his face again.

Before returning to Stockport, to catch our train home, we call by Burnage. It's where the Gallagher brothers grew up. There are three murals of Liam and Noel painted on the wall of Sifter Records, on Fog Street.

It's 4 a.m. on Saturday. I throw back the duvet and gingerly move my weary body from my bed. I've had just a few hours kip. We visited 27 pubs (half pints in most) and walked 15 miles. I work at the shop with MSR legend Dayne until midday. Ms Moon picks me up and we head north towards the M1.

We dine at a gastropub called the Hunloke Arms in the village of Wingerworth, just outside Chesterfield. The snap is spot on. Ms Moon has a fillet steak sandwich soaked in a Gorgonzola sauce. I settle for a Cajun chicken burger. I stick to a soft drink after overindulging in the last few days.

We take a wander around Alfreton. I clock a micropub, but I'm more taken aback with a wonderful War Memorial in the Market Square. I buy a copy of Arthur Lowe's autobiography from a startled indoor market trader.

We're sat behind the Bury dugout five minutes before kick off. The Shakers fans have arrived in large numbers. We're always amused by the antics of their manager Anthony Johnson, who we followed during his time at the helm with Salford, alongside his pal Bernard Morley.

Alfreton fall behind after a good start. The goalkeeper is duped and wrong-footed by a daisy cutter of a free kick. They are all at sea when conceding a penalty five minutes later. The Alfreton full back lumps a ball forward, it's latched onto by the hard working Siyabonga Ligendza. He finishes with aplomb. Johnson will be stripping the paint off the walls of the away changing room, after Bury switch off so late in the half.

The DJ plays a belter at the break. 'Bus Stop' by The Hollies reminds me of happy times when Mum and Dad were alive and we had a record player in the front room.

Alfreton are fired up and set about Bury. They deserve their equaliser with a brilliant goal, again coming from success down the right hand side. There's a melee right in front of us. A beer-swilling, chain-smoking idiot,who has stood throughout the game in a 'no standing' area, hurls abuse at the Bury players and officials. I would have pulled the clown up, but didn't want to embarrass Ms Moon.

Substitute, DJ Pedro, spins his marker with minutes remaining. He hits a delicious volley with the ball on the up, it dips under the crossbar and into the corner of the net. He runs the whole length of the pitch to celebrate with the ecstatic away following. I can't 'arf pick 'em.

Attendance: 982

Player of the Match: Siyabonga Ligendza

Real Ale of the Week: Long Hop, Bollington Brewery

Pub of the Week: Lamb Hotel, Eccles

Best Record Heard on the Radio: Stain, by Lemonsuckr

Sheffield FC 0-2 Eastwood CFC

It's Saturday tea time and I'm sat in the back room of the Bread and Bitter pub on Mapperley Top. It's an area of Nottingham where legendary Notts County striker Tony Hateley once lived. He scored 77 goals in 131 appearances for the Pies in the early 1970s. His son, Mark, scored 17 goals in 66 appearances for Italian giants AC Milan. Freddie Mercury's parents and sister also lived on Mapperley Plains.

Faggsy gets in a round of Castle Rock's Harvest Pale ale. My phone is going off ten to the dozen. Blog legend, Jon Gilbert, has messaged me to say I've won the Carlton Town '200 Club.' I scroll down the list of winners genuinely believing I've won £25. Blimey Charlie, I've won the £200 jackpot. Big Joe grasses me up to the supporters in the clubhouse that I'm watching Gedling MW v Radford, when my number is drawn out, instead of being down Stoke Lane. Ha ha .. I like to keep it fresh. The money will come in handy as I need a couple of new parts for my boiler.

I enjoy a couple of pints of Lenton Lane and Ossett real ale at the King Billy, in Sneinton, on Sunday lunchtime. I write up the blog in the afternoon whilst listening to back to back Radcliffe and Maconie shows on 6 Music. These two brilliant broadcasters introduced me to the talented Tame Impala, a psychedelic band from Australia. They are playing in Manchester next May. I'd love to go and see them. But I baulk at the price of a £100 ticket.

I actually saw Stuart Maconie give a talk in the summer about one of his recent publications, 'With a Little Help From Our Friends.' It's a book of background stories of people who helped The Beatles prior to fame and during their journey as world chart toppers. The talk was part of the final ever Lowdham Book Festival, and was held at Southwell Library. I enjoyed a pint with Nige Harlow and Reuben in the Final Whistle after the main event. Maconie popped in for a pint. I congratulated him on a fantastic evening. £11 for a ticket was a steal.

I've been tuning in to the 'This is Eastwood' documentary on my half an hour bus journey to Arnold on workdays. Episode one was a horrible watch. It was full of swearing and anger. The edit made their then manager, Willis Francis, look like an ill-tempered person, when away from the dressing room, I'm sure he's not.

The documentary has grown on me and I look forward to its weekly release on a Thursday. With this in mind I clock that the Red Badgers are away to Sheffield FC, the oldest club in the world, who are based in the Derbyshire town of Dronfield. I mention this to Nottingham groundhopper and good friend. Danny Bhoy. He says it's on his list of games to go to.

I wander up to Dan's house after locking up the shop. We travel up past Papplewick, Hucknall and through the village of Linby where I worked at the colliery for three years. We breeze up the M1 and turn off at the junction for Chesterfield.

Dan is one of the UK's biggest reviewers of fish and chip shops on Instagram. He has had his beady eye on a beef dripping chippy in the village of Calow, only a few miles down the road from Dronfield. Despite it being midweek, Calow Fryer is doing a roaring trade. You know it's going to be a good 'un when you see an average score of 4.6 on Google review.

The staff are rushed off their feet and the phone is ringing off the hook. It's £23 for two portions of haddock, chips and Chinese curry sauce, plus a couple of cans of pop. The batter is crispy and the meat is mouth-watering. My favourite bit is ten minutes prior to eating, when the smell of beef dripping drifts out of the shop, towards the bench we are sitting at.

The Coach and Horses Ground is only a few miles down the road and what a beauty it is too. The last time I was here Carlton Town were on a miserable run of form, and they somehow failed to score against a team who played for 80 minutes with ten men, with their centre half in the nets.

The chairman of Sheffield FC is Jon McClure, who is also the lead singer of indie band Reverend and the Makers. His brother is Chris McClure, better known as social media star Steve Bracknell. Jon McClure is chatting to the club's historian who is standing adjacent to us. He says two of their best players have left the club this morning.

Somehow Eastwood manage to go into the break one goal to the good. There will be a bomb going off in there once joint managers Billy Bennett and Kieran Fenton arrive from the dugouts. Billy will be blowing a gasket at what he's seen, as it's only the brilliance of Scott Loach in the nets that keeps them in the game.

We bump into Arnold legend Daz Marshall at the break. He sings in an Oasis tribute band and also represents England at footgolf. He asks me if I fancy watching Gurriers, up the road at Crookes Social Club in a couple of Mondays time. 

Eastwood turn it up a notch or two in the second half, bagging a second goal. Curtis Thompson is the best player on the park. It's ridiculous that he is playing at this level. Thanks for driving Dan.

The plan was to go into town on Friday evening for a few scoops, but Ms Moon says it's such a lovely evening, so why don't we sit out in the garden. Celebrity Traitors has begun its latest run. Ms Moon loves this ratings winner, whilst I've zero interest in it. They all seem a bit posh and pally in there. I didn't really care much for one of the contestants, the actor Ross Kemp. He played Rugger and was married to Rebekah Brooks, the former editor of the News of the World, who was caught up in the phone-hacking scandal. I changed my mind on Kemp when I read he was a big supporter of the Labour Party.

I'm up and out of bed at 3 am on Saturday as I'm running the MSR Arnold shop, as my mate, Dayne, is off to Gillingham groundhopping with his son. It's a bloody nightmare as the papers arrive late. Thanks for all your help Sean. Those bloody supplement inserts are a chuffing nightmare on Saturdays

I have a kip when I arrive home and feel fresh when Ms Moon drops me off at the bottom of Burton Road. It's a beautiful sunny day and plenty of folk are walking down Stoke Lane towards the ground. I get a bit of stick for winning the 200 Club. I have a quick chat with Julian Wilson, Dean Linford and Danny Bhoy before wandering over to the Sir Malcolm Brown Stand with Faggsy.

It's another cracking DJ set from Alan Murphy, it includes: Jilted John (fond memories of that one), Sister Sledge, The Fall and Inspiral Carpets. We bump into a subdued Joey Barton the club mascot. He's got a poorly eye and is sporting a recovery cone to stop him scratching his ulcer, bless him.

Stability has been restored at Carlton after a shaky start following the hangover from the fag end of last season. It's a strong starting eleven, and it will need to be as the visitors have a 100% record intact. I clock Daily Mail reader Edward in the stand, grinning like a Cheshire cat. Why can't he be a good lad and read the iPaper like his lovely Dad, Jon does?

There's plenty of huff and puff in the first half, but it's devoid of any quality. The visitors look more athletic and are easier on the eye. Jon Gilbert is in the clubhouse at the break. He's a relieved man as the nuisance and irritant 'Biscuit' is missing in action in Benidorm. Unfortunately he will have to babysit the buffoon for four days in Estepona, in southern Spain, in a few weeks time.

The game is much better in the second half. Felix Annan keeps honours even with a brilliant save after a Wellingborough striker runs through alone on goal. The Millers defence as a unit are magnificent, particularly Dean Freeman who is dominant in the air. Special mention for the referee too who was superb.

Attendance: 443 at Sheffield and 446 at Carlton

Player of the Match: Curtis Thompson (Eastwood) Felix the Cat (Carlton).  Deano a close second. 

Best Song Heard on the Radio: Johnny Marr, It's the Time

Best Beer Supped This Week: Dispersion, Atom Brewery, Hull. Bread and Bitter, Mapperley

Thanks Danny Bhoy for the photos

Gedling MW 1-4 Radford FC

32,000 spectators file out of the Hillsborough Stadium after a 0-0 draw. Sticky Palms doesn't do blankety blanks. It's the BLOG strapline. It's only the second time I've revisited Sheffield Wednesday's ground since the 1989 FA Cup semi-final between Liverpool and Nottingham Forest. 97 people were crushed to death. The FA allowed a game to be played at a stadium where the safety certificate was out of date. High steel perimeter fences, erected in the 70s and 80s, were removed as part of the Taylor Report recommendations.

During the game I stared from my seat, high up in The Kop, towards the Leppings Lane End where the tragedy unfolded. I have never erased from my mind the awful events that happened that day. We weren't offered counselling. Just crack on folks with your British stiff, upper lip. A few years ago a small group of us from Nottingham walked 26 miles around the streets and landmarks of Liverpool to raise monies for the survivors, supporters and families of the bereaved, to help cover the costs of any counselling or specialised help that is still needed to this day.

I'm directed to Hillsborough Interchange by some friendly Owls' supporters. After an age, a tram finally rocks up. I arrive at Sheffield train station with 60 seconds spare before my Northern train departs for Nottingham. There's time for a swift pint of a Two by Two real ale at the Cock and Hoop on my return to the 'Queen of the Midlands.'

Strictly Come Dancing is on the TV set back at HQ. I ask Ms Moon where Len Goodman and Brendan Cole are. She says Len retired years ago and has since passed away, and that Cole was dropped from the show in 2018. I loved Len, but thought Cole was always a bit flash, big time and cocksure.

Sunday lunch is taken at the highly-rated Woodlark Inn, in the village of Lambley. The pub's fish is sourced from Cornwall, but it also boasts of 'wonderful Sunday lunches.' It's served up on the smallest plate in the world. There is one large piece of beef, one roast potato and a spoonful of mash. I would have kicked off at the stingy portions (£24 if you're asking) but didn't want to embarrass Ms Moon or the friendly waiting staff. I settle up the bill minus the 10% service charge which I usually cough up without a fuss. 

It's Tuesday and I am having some tea in Five Guys, a fast food chain restaurant that first opened in Virginia, USA, back in 1986. I wander over to MSR News HQ, on Angel Row, to buy a bag of barley sugars to take away the taste that's left from the gherkins, that were on the juicy burger.  Head honcho, Mick McMurdoch is manning the fort. We exchange pleasantries before I head over Market Square towards Hockley.

The film Pressure is showing at Broadway this evening. I've had a keen interest in Group Captain James Stagg since visiting the pub that was named after him, Staggs (The Volunteer Arms) in Musselburgh, Scotland. 

Stagg was a Scottish meteorologist, who was attached to the RAF during the Second World War. He changed the course of history by famously persuading General Eisenhower to delay the D-Day landings due to stormy weather arriving on the day of planned invasions. It's a fantastic 100 minutes running time, packed with tension and drama.

It's Friday morning and the proprietors of the Hungry Pumpkin cafe are removing the shutters and setting up for opening, as I stroll through the door. I enjoy a bacon and egg cob accompanied with a couple of hash browns. I wash it down with a piping hot Americano, as Love Me Again by John Newman is played on Pumpkin FM.

Tony Mac and I board the 8.50 EMR train to London St Pancras. At 11 a.m. on the dot, we're necking our first drink of the day at the White Swan. It's a half pint of Master Brew, from Shepherd Neame,  who are based in Faversham, Kent. We're close to Bethnal Green where Fleetwood Mac band member Peter Green and Cheryl Baker from Bucks Fizz were both born. The boxer Charlie Magri, footballer Vinny Samways and EastEnders actress Patsy Palmer also grew up in the area.

We meet up with Coops, Harris and Ackers. One of our band of brothers is absent today. We miss his humour and beer knowledge. Get well soon pal, we all love you and miss you. 16x pubs are ticked off. My favourite pub building is The Perseverance. The beer from Twickenham Fine Ales is a beauty too.

I don't sleep well on Friday night. I'm up at 7 am overdosing on coffee. I pop some records round to Casually Dan who is on the decks at Carlton Town's top of the table clash versus Sutton Coldfield Town. I want my collection to go to a good home. It's an early doors trip to the worst supermarket in Western Europe. Rick Astley's 'Never Gonna Give You Up' is on Radio Tesco - I would give up these buffoons in the blink of an eye if Morrisons, in Netherfield, was a bit nearer to home.

The rest of the morning is spent in the garden and garage, either cutting the lawn, weeding or tidying up. I pop back in the house for a brew. Gordon Ramsay is kicking off again on USA Kitchen Nightmares. Staff at a family diner are in tears as Gordon loses his rag. 

I've chosen the Gedling v Raddy match over Carlton today, as I never like missing this fixture. Ms Moon drops me off as she is going to the gym adjacent to the ground. There's no sign of Big Glenn in the clubhouse. I usually enjoy watching him filling out the team sheet as he has the neatest handwriting in the United Counties Premier League.

Everything becomes crystal clear on my walk around the ground. Big Glenn is back in the dugout as the manager is on holiday. Physio, Shoey, confirms that the Head Honcho is taking his duties very seriously. He has been at the ground since 12.20 and has fired up his troops with a Winston Churchill speech in the changing rooms.

I stand with Faggsy away from the dugouts and noisy, quick-witted Radford following They score a brilliant opening goal. It's greeted by the Raddy faithful with the song: "Radford is full of fun, it's full of Crack, Asda and Prossies, oh Radford is full of fun". There's nothing funny about Gedling's equaliser. The smirk is erased from the Big Lad's face as a comedy of errors at the back sees a shot nestle in the back of an empty net. Radford score another goal from a beautifully crafted passage of play.

Faggsy reports on bad news reaching us from Trent Bridge. Cheating Yorkshire have beaten Notts by one wicket. Jonny 'Angry' Bairstow has hit the winning runs. He loves it down 'The Bridge', does Jonny. I watched the Yorkies trying to con the match officials on Thursday afternoon under Bairstow's stewardship. It was embarrassing and unnecessary.

Big Glenn is caught red-handed sweeping up a handful of potted beef sandwiches in the hospitality area en route to the technical area. As I said to him, the greats like Pep Guardiola and Arsene Wenger never used to sample tapas or snails during a half time break in the Premier League. The game is over minutes later with a firm header at the far post from a peach of a corner. Raddy add a further goal. 4-1 is harsh on Gedling who haven't been bad going forward themselves.

Attendance: 177

Player of the Match: Dorian Sulkowski

Pub of the Week: The Perseverance

Beer of the Week: Mystery of the Galaxies, Twickenham Fine Ales

Best Record Heard on the Radio: Yard Act, You're Going to Need a Little Music

Sheffield Wednesday 0-0 Stockport County

It's been a stroll in the park at the Lido Ground for Eastwood CFC as they steamroll over the opposition, Clipstone FC 5-0. We're long gone and cruising down the A614 by the time the referee blows the final whistle. Ms Moon drops me off at the Old Volunteer (Vollo) on Burton Road, just a five minute walk away from our crib. Please don't confuse the Vollo with the pretentious Old Volunteer in Caythorpe village. With its sharing pods and sofas in the pub garden. It's like the set from Love Island.

The 192 year-old Vollo is far more humble and welcoming. It has a vast range of cask ales. Lights, Darks, best bitters and Pales are all available. I opt for a pint of American Candy from Lenton Lane Brewery. I sit on a stool catching up on all the final scores in this afternoon's football. It's my favourite part of the week.

When I arrive home I ask Ms Moon if a date has been set for the funeral of Jimmy King from Emmerdale Farm, as I was thinking of booking time off from work, so I could attend the service, and pay my respects at Hotten Church, in West Yorkshire. She tells me to grow up. Apparently it's a soap opera and not for real. Well, knock me down with a feather.

It's Tuesday evening and I've just polished off a chippy tea from Oceans, which is owned by a big Sky Blues fan. I bet he'll be in the Coventry away end at The City Ground on Saturday evening. I walk to Stoke Lane with Faggsy as the Mighty Millers are entertaining lowly Long Eaton. DJ Murph is on the decks this evening. His set list includes: Glory Box, Portishead, Lullaby, The Cure and Idiot Joy Showland, by The Fall.

The Carlton management team are slowly getting the band back together. Charlie Carter has returned on loan from Mansfield Town. The biggest news though is that club legend Dan Brown is back in the fold as well as his dad, Malc. We love them both to bits.

We lean on the railing, hugging the touchline in the Sir Malcolm Brown stand, located on the far side of the ground. The Millers play football on the front foot. The goal has been coming and what a banger it is too from Nat Watson. I catch up with a few folk that I haven't seen for a while at the break. Biscuit and Jon Gilbert are always good for banter.

Watson, a match winner on his day, looks to have put the game to bed, shortly after the break, with a tap in at the far post, following an inch perfect cross from Jack Thomas. Long Eaton show some spirit and begin to rally the troops. They have knocked on the door and had a few near misses as they get on top. They deservedly reduce arrears from the spot.

They are wide open at the back as they chase the game. A defensive howler sees Watson grab a treble and the match ball. The icing on the cake is complete with a 1-0 win for 'The Lincoln' versus Bristol City, at Ashton Gate.

Wednesday afternoon is spent in the village of Keyworth, where I resided for 45 years. My granddaughter, Romy Palmer, is on top form, once she awakens from her afternoon nap. I leave her watching Mickey Mouse (not to be mixed up with an EMR advert). I manage to grab a quick pint of a Two by Two IPA (Byker, in Newcastle) from the Cock and Hoop, on High Pavement, in Nottingham city centre, before jumping on a bus back to HQ.

At 1pm on Thursday I'm on an EMR train to Grantham. There's no drama nor any power sockets to charge my phone. I've a 15 minute change time before hopping on a LNER high speed train up to York. They are the creme de la creme of rail operators. Following a recent study by the Telegraph only Transport for Wales, GWR, ScotRail and Merseyrail bettered their performance. Cross Country finished bottom of the pile, due to the sickness culture that's widespread in the company.

My brother and I take a wander along the banks of the river Ouse. It's a beautiful autumn afternoon. First port of call is the recently re-opened Wellington Inn, on Alma Terrace, in Fishergate. I love the cosy snugs and historical pictures hanging from the walls.

Samuel Smith's eccentric brewery owner, Humphrey Smith, recently passed away at the age of 81 years old. 16 of their pubs have re-opened since June 2026. I compliment the landlord on the quality of his beer. He asks if I can put a positive review on google. "Sorry mate, but you've banned mobile phones", I jest.

No visit to York is complete without popping into the House of Trembling Madness. I neck a 6% of Verdant's finest craft ale, whilst tapping my feet to the furious drumbeat of Joy Division's Transmission.

Mark and I are up and at 'em early on Friday morning. We're parked up outside the Mallyan Spout Hotel by 10,30 a.m. It's a tricky climb over greasy stepping stones up to the Mallyan Spout Waterfall, which rises from the spring in the moorland above Goathland.

I'm in need of liquid refreshment. In the tiny village of Beck Hole is the wonderful three star CAMRA Heritage pub called Birch Hall Inn. It has a serving hatch and a selection of ales. We enjoy homemade cheese scones, pork pies and beer cake, smothered in butter, outside, in the fresh air. A chatty landlady says that the pub has only had two licencees in the last 94 years.

Goathland has become infamous due to the long-running ITV series Heartbeat. Loyal readers know I used to adore this proper cop shop. I loved it when Sergeant Blaketon used to catch PC Ventress with his feet up having a crafty fag and a cup of tea, when he should have been out and about clocking what stolen goods Claude Greengrass was fencing.

There's a fleeting visit to the town of Selby. We walk past the cathedral on our way to another CAMRA HP called New Inn. We swing by Sainsburys so I can buy a couple of bottles of wine for my brother and sister in-law, for putting me up, or should that be, putting up with me. for a couple of nights.

Another recently reopened Sam Smith's pub called The Tankard, in Rufforth, is ticked off on the way home. Once again the ale is spot on. Mark rustles up a lovely curry as we settle in for the evening. We watch the first half of Brentford v Chelsea. Gogglebox on Channel 4 is far more entertaining.

I'm in Sheffield for midday. The highlight of the train journey was four women from Newcastle cheering that they had booked tickets for a Jimmy Nail concert at Gateshead Glasshouse. It's an 80 minute walk to Hillsborough with a beer stop on the way at The Harlequin. I catch up on the latest news and scores on my phone as I quaff a Cloudwater XPA. Lauryn Hill's brilliant Everything is Everything is played on the jukebox shuffle.

There's so much that catches my eye on the walk to the game, particularly the first-class Sheffield breweries such as Neepsend and Heist. I'm sat in my seat in the upper Kop Stand by 2pm. The DJ plays The Smiths and Stone Roses before warming the crowd up with a Sheffield medley mix of Reverend and the Makers, Arctic Monkeys, Human League and Pulp.

Over 32,000 have rocked up on the back of a 0-0 bore draw last Saturday versus Wigan. The Stockport fans attend in large numbers and it is their team (the Hatters) who swarm all over the Owls. They couldn't hit a cow's arse with a banjo as shots balloon over the bar, go wide of the post, or are cleared off the line. Wednesday play the long and direct game. They gift the ball to the visitors time and time again. 

It's hard to say who is more disinterested in the game: two five year old boys mucking about in the seats adjacent to me or Wednesday forward Jamal Lowe. It begins to dawn on me that this is going to end 0-0. Stockport are streets ahead of the Owls, whose only improvement arrives from the bench with the energy and bravery of 17 year-old Harry Gray, who is on loan from Leeds. I can't 'arf pick 'em ... lol.

Attendance: 32,290

Player of the Match: Ben Osborn (could put a cross on a sixpence)

Best Beer I've Drank This Week: Two by Two, Idhao Citra

Best Song Heard on the Dukey This Week: Lauryn Hill, Everything is Everything

Get well soon to one of my best mates xx