Abbey Hulton Utd 1-1 Cammell Laird 1907

I turn off Radford Rd, in inner-city Nottingham, and stick the car in Asda Hyson Green Superstore. The maximum parking time is two hours. I'll be longer than that this evening and run the risk of being clamped by a jobsworth security man. Don't panic if you're the Store Manager at Marks and Spencer Food Hall in Netherfield and are reading this drivel - I'm neither deserting you or shopping at Asda.

A tram passes by, as I cross the road and head down Selhurst Street, in one of the most multi-cultural areas of our city. I sidle through a turnstile. The floodlights are turned off. The ground is dimly lit with lighting from the clubhouse.

I handover £15 to a guy holding a Tupperware box in the corridor. Former Nottingham Forest manager, and one of Sticky's favourites, Paul Hart, is a guest speaker at Radford FC this evening. Radford manager, Big Glenn Russell, clocks me in the bar and beckons me over towards him. I'm invited to sit on his table. I upset the barman by handing over a Euro for a can of Diet Coke. The excuse of being in Tenerife recently falls on death ears; I'm well and truly rinsed.

I'm sat with Alfreton Town Sporting Director, Nicky Hawkins, and Dunkirk legendary full-back 'McGoo.'Former Nottinghamshire Groundsman of the Year 'Swifty' is mein host. Paul Hart had a distinguished playing career, making over 500 senior appearances. There are the inevitable Clough anecdotes from Hart's time at The City Ground. One of them is a gem.

Barca v NFFC in a pre-season friendly after the World Cup finals in 1986, at Nou Camp, in front of a six-figure crowd. The players are lining up in the tunnel. Diego Maradona suddenly emerges from a chapel room after saying a prayer and takes his place in the line-up. Brian Clough clocks Maradona and makes a beeline towards him. He puts his hands down his shorts before grabbing his testicles and says "Now that's the Hand of God, Son"

I'm sick to the back teeth of the wind and rain. I announced to Ms Moon, after a couple of rocket fuel ales at Neon Raptor Tap Room, last Friday evening, that football is off tomorrow's agenda. We have a wander around Nottingham city centre. I show Ms Moon the plaque of Peter Pan author J M Barrie, that rests above Tanners estate agents on Pelham Street. Barrie worked for the Nottingham Journal before finding success as an author.

We enjoy lunch at Bar Iberico, a Spanish tapas restaurant on Carlton Street. I kill a bit of time in Rough Trade on Broad Street, bagging a bucket hat that I can wear on sun-drenched evenings at Trent Bridge cricket ground. I collect two tickets at Nottingham Broadway Cinema for the 2 p.m. showing of Dark Waters starring Tim Robbins and Anne Hathaway - it's a cracking film and definitely worth a peek.

My hat fetish takes a further twist, with my second purchase of the day, at Neon Raptor. A flat-peaked baseball cap doesn't go down too well with Ms Moon, who says she'd prefer it if I didn't wear it in her company   ...  lol. I'm 56 years old btw.

I've enjoyed my 10-day winter break from football, but feel as ring rusty as Jurgen Klopp's Liverpool. Tuesday evening is spent up at the old mining village of Rainworth, in north Notts. In 1975, armed robber, kidnapper and murderer Donald Neilson (the 'Black Panther') was overpowered by two burly mineworkers, outside a chippy, who had just clocked off from the afternoon shift at Rufford Colliery, after Neilson had kidnapped two police officers.

I get a nice welcome from the Radford management team, tonight's visitors, and legendary groundhopper Malc Storer, who does so much to promote the Non-League game in Notts. It's good to see folk take action on players that they are tipped off about. I saw 21-year-old Lucas Cotterill bag a hat-trick for Cotgrave a few weeks ago. He's off the mark for his new club, Radford, early in the second half. Simon Hore makes it 2-0 from the spot in the 48th minute. Radford look to be home and hosed. Rainworth claw one back after a horror show from the visiting right-back and equalise with a brilliant header from a set-piece. Big Glenn is fuming, but at least he doesn't fling his baseball cap to floor in anger, which normally makes me chuckle - even though I love Radford.

The plan on Saturday was to travel up to Barrow AFC v Notts County with Trumpy Bolton. But, with the weather being unreliable, particularly up in the Lake District, I decided to play the safety card and go somewhere nearer to home. I tag Abbey Hulton Utd (in Stoke) in a tweet to say we'll be in attendance and receive a very friendly and welcoming tweet back from them. I'm already excited for the day, and so is Trumpy when it's confirmed the ground has licensed premises.

It's Friday evening and I'm driving home from work. TalkSport are waffling on and on and Five Live are scaring us all to death over Coronavirus. I flick on Radio 2 expecting to hear Steve 'Silly Boi' Wright's 'Serious Jockin'. I'm pleasantly surprised to hear his replacement is the excellent Leicester-born presenter O J Borg. What's even better is that he playing New Order's 'Temptation' from 1981 - which only reached number 29 in the charts.

I enjoy a pint of Shipyard with Ms Moon at the worst 'Spoons in England - The Free Man on Carlton Hill. It's been a bad day for leading Brexiteer and Wetherspoons Chairman Tim Martin, as shares have tumbled due to nervousness in the market about Coronavirus.

I wave Ms Moon off to Emmerdale Farm and the cobbled streets of Weatherfield and jump on the No.27 bus into town, before alighting at Southwell Road. Neon Raptor have four new lines of beer on offer tonight. Sticky's fave, Naughty Luggage, is back on the production line. I guzzle down a half and another half, and on and on - you have to show respect readers at 6.8abv; it's the Black Mamba of the drinking world. I catch up with Tony 'Dog' McDonald before returning back to basecamp slightly worse for wear.

I'm as rough as a badger's arse on Saturday morning - I didn't have any tea or supper the previous evening. Fuelled with a couple of extra-strong Nescafe Alta Rica coffees I head over to Trumpy's yard. He emerges from his crib carrying a Kwik Save bag which he reckons he can get £50 for on eBay.

The Boltons spent last weekend in Norwich. They witnessed the Canaries beating the Foxes 1-0 on Friday evening. My old budgie Murphy Palmer would have enjoyed that one (and Finlay my rabbit). We were meant to join the Boltons on Saturday as the plan was to watch Wroxham v Bitton AFC in an FA Vase quarter-final tie (Wroxham is only a few miles outside Norwich) sadly we didn't make the trip due to the deteriorating weather conditions.

First port of call is a 'Spoons called The Arnold Machin in Newcastle-under-Lyme, a suburb of Stoke. I like to wind Trumpy up, as he guzzles his way through his litre of cider. The mere mention of Jim White, Jeremy Corbyn, Rylan Clark-Neal, Nicola Sturgeon or women football commentators gets his face ruddy red or causes a coughing fit. There's an embarrassing episode in the car park when we have to beg a random stranger for some coinage for the parking fee - thank you for your act of kindness.

Trumpy shouts up a couple of pints of Ruddles (for him) and asks me if I would like anything to eat. I say a bacon and Brie panini would be nice, but without the chilli jam. There's a monumental cock-up on the catering front, as I'm served up a panini plastered in chilli jam - Trumpy explains it may have been lost in translation when ordering. 'Spoons shares will be dropping again when I grass them up over this faux pas. I ask the legend what were the last two films he watched. "Jungle Book and Debbie Does Dallas" he replies.

The second pub visited is in the picture-postcard village of Bagnall (population 765) It's a corker folks. Trumpy has a pint of Bass and a pint of Peregrine from the Peakstones Brewing Company. I thought Steve 'Silly Boi' Wright was on the decks when I hear What is Love? by Haddaway on the pub dukey.

The ride to the ground is Laurel and Hardy-esque. After two wrong turns, a three-point turn on a bend and plenty of head-scratching we finally roll into the car park. We're greeted on arrival by Twitter man, 'Dave', who makes us both very welcome. Trumpy asks where the bar is and soon disappears, whilst I have a good chinwag with Dave, who is such a lovely bloke.

I take a stroll around the ground and bump into frisky four-month-old Springer Spaniel, George. Today's visitors are from Cammell Laird, Birkenhead, a famous old shipyard that is still in production. I followed them for a while, 10 years ago, when they had some great players such as Ronnie Morgan and Jamie McGuire, who went onto play for Mansfield Town. Don't forget Clough signed Peter Davenport from here, who later on went to play for Man Utd,

Bolton is holed up in the bar, downing his second bottle of Newcastle Brown Ale, as the home side kick with the wind behind them. I've left my chuffing hat in the car boot and am already moaning about how cold it is. I'm joined by Trumpy who is saying the game has 0-0 written all over it. A stray clearance heads our way. I nonchalantly stick my left foot out, to cushion the ball, which hits a divot (honest) and ends up nestling in the overgrowth. There's a huge groan from folk around me, while play is interrupted, as I retrieve the ball.

The home side take the lead with a spectacular 'PlayStation' overhead kick. Joy is short-lived when Abbey Hulton are sadly reduced to ten men, just before half-time, after a one-way 'Glasgow Kiss.' Whilst Trumpy drinks the bar dry, I'm introduced to Lee the Chairman and the girls in the cafe. They rustle me up a local delicacy called an oatcake - I thought it was a biscuit, but it turns out to be a cross between a chapati and a pancake and is filled with bacon.

The second half is tough going for Abbey Hulton. Playing into a stiff breeze and with only ten men, proves challenging. The equaliser has been coming as the visitors up the tempo. The 17-year-old home keeper', who has been outstanding, is finally beaten. Abbey Hulton hold their own despite being a man down and thoroughly deserve the draw.

I find Dave standing by the PA system. What a guy he is. He's announced all the substitutions, read out all the teams and played some top toons, including Two Tribes by Frankie Goes To Hollywood, Dario G and Faithless. He's 'The Stoke Judge Jules.' He points out a guy who's stood behind the goal. "You see that bloke stood there? His name is John Wightman and he's been involved at this Club since 1953, when his Dad first brought him down. He's spent countless hours down here looking after the playing surface" I saw a plaque in the clubhouse with his name on and a stand named after him. It makes my spine tingle and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

Attendance: 80

Men of the Match: 'The Stoke Judge Jules' and Sir John Wightman