Earlier in the day, we had wandered down the river in bright sunshine, with the water leading us to the town of Warwick, which sits on the Avon. We had lunch on a cobbled back street before skirting around the grounds of the castle. We called in at Fizzy Moon Brewhouse and Grill and quenched our thirst on the sun-soaked terrace, packed to the rafters with revelers. Evening dinner was spent at the highly-rated Carisma Tapas and Wine bar. A few gins were sampled and seen off at the White Horse where former Coventry City and Carlisle United manager Steven Pressley was holding court with some friends.
My night's sleep was disturbed even further due to some noise coming from over the road at the Royal Pug public house. I feel groggy at the breakfast table before we check-out. We stroll up to the cemetery a mile or so up the road. Yesterday we chanced upon a statue, in Warwick town centre of Randolph Turpin, a former World middleweight boxing champion, who defeated Sugar Ray Robinson in 1951. Robinson had only lost one fight in 132 bouts, and that was against Jake LaMotta (Raging Bull). Turpin made some bad business decisions and later became bankrupt. Suffering from depression he took his own life, in May 1966, at the age of just 37 years old. Piers finds his headstone amongst a maze of graves - we pay our respects.
The weather has turned this week with the arrival of 40mph winds and Storm Francis. It put paid to my visit to West Bridgford FC who were entertaining Carlton Town. Incredibly the game still went ahead. It looked a cracker too, with the visitors running out 5-3 winners. I watch The Fall on Netflix with Ms Moon instead.
It's Thursday evening. I'm parking up the car in West Bridgford Library. I enjoy a spot of tea at Pizza Express with my youngest lad ('Our Joe') who works in the same office as me. Whilst he heads off to the gym, I drive back to the office, as I've an hour or so to kill before Clifton All Whites take on Ilkeston at Green Lane in a pre-season friendly. It's beginning to hammer it down with rain as I stretch my legs around Rushcliffe Country Park, in the village of Ruddington. It's a former bomb factory and ammunition bunker.
I park up in The Fairham Hotel car park. I cross Farnborough Road and enter the ground. I bought a ticket online to save any hassle on the gate. I bump into Big D, who is stood behind the nearest goal chatting to his lad, Ross Durrant, who is in the nets for Ilson.
Clifton legendary manager James 'Tosh' Turner emerges from the dressing room area with a broad smile on his face. He elbow bumps folks en route to the dugout. I catch up on the gossip with Big D, who I haven't seen since the COVID outbreak. Ilson have been busy recruiting players. They are managed by former Northampton Town and Scunthorpe United striker Martin Carruthers. There are a few well-known local celebrities in the crowd including 'Boydy' and 'Yogi.' It's a throughly enjoyable evening and an entertaining game too, with All Whites winning 5-4 #Icantarfpickem.
Ms Moon drops me off at the bottom of Sneinton, just short of five bells, on Friday tea-time. I walk through Hockley and up Goose Gate. Blog legend Tony 'Dog' McDonald has booked a table for two from 5pm-7pm in the Six Barrel Draughthouse on Carlton Street. We mainly talk craft ales as we drink cans from the fridge that are recommended by the knowledgeable bar staff. It ends up getting messy in Neon Raptor Tap Room where freshly brewed rocket fuel Naughty Luggage is available once again.
I feel worse for wear on Saturday morning. That final half-pint of coconut and mandarin sour at 9% abv proper finished me off. I walk gingerly down the stairs and make a brew. Ms Moon throws a few things into an overnight bag. We're on the road by 11 a.m.
The Cheshire town of Knutsford is tonight's destination. Ms Moon has booked a room at the olde worlde Rose and Crown, which is an entry in the Good Pub Guide. The plan had been to watch Knutsford FC play away at Denton Town in east Manchester - another deluge of rain has seen that game bite the dust. Whalley Range Amateurs are second on the list. Their twitter account confirms the game is ON.
I quite like Alan Carr and Melanie Sykes on Radio 2. They play a banging toon by Manchester-based House band K-Klass, called 'Let Me Show You.' The Sat Nav takes us over Woodhead Pass. The lilac heather, blossoming on the Pennines, looks beautiful as we head towards Mottram Moor.
We arrive in Greater Manchester an hour before kick-off. Ms Moon is gagging for some caffeine. I locate a Costa Coffee outlet in Withington. I queue at a cashpoint that isn't dispensing any money out. I take a wander down the street and chance upon a ruddy-faced, weather-beaten beggar. I promise him some money once I've found a hole in the wall. Two drunks sitting outside Costa are necking some super-strength lager. One points out to me that I've some paper riding up my back pocket (it's a mask). I thank him. He asks for some cash. I give him a quid, as I do the other beggar on the High Street.
We park the car outside the narrow turning for the ground in a suburban area on Kings Road in Chorlton-cum-Hardy. Ms Moon unwraps some prawn sandwiches that she very kindly made up earlier this morning (sorry to Roy Keane if he's reading this).
Whalley Range was built by Manchester businessman Samuel Brooks in the mid 19th Century. It has a population of 15,000. A few celebrity links: the band James were formed here. Nigel Pivaro - Corrie bad boy Terry Duckworth - was baptised at a local church and the comedian Les Dawson passed away in Whalley Range, at the Spire hospital, of a heart attack whilst waiting for a routine check-up. I tried to find his grave whilst groundhopping in Lytham St Annes last season, but the cemetery was waterlogged.
A track-suited, friendly home official confirms there is no payment required on the gate. I love the ground. There's a shiny, plush clubhouse with leather sofas and a pool table - there's also real ale on, but I'm still feeling a tad fragile after last night's shenanigans. The ground is in the heart of the community. We lean on the white-painted rail at the end the home side will attack.
The visitors, from Oldham, start brightly and look sharper. They take the lead with an early goal after a towering header from their 6' 7" centre-half. The home side look shaken, but their never-say-die attitude soon sees them restore parity.
There is an extraordinary 'off-the-field' incident 15 minutes into the game. Across the far side of the pitch are some semi-detached houses. An incumbent at one of the properties has taken to fly-tipping some old fence panels. They are hurling them over the garden onto the football club's property. The perpetrator is either very brave or extremely stupid. There are some handy-looking blokes milling around the clubhouse - folk round here can look after themselves. A club official, who is ripped and furious pegs it over to the far side of the ground to have it out with the Herbert who has been lobbing stuff over his fence. Abuse is hurled in both directions for 15 minutes or so before the agitated official returns to the dugout, muttering that the said offender is 'an embarrassment.'
The goals continue to fly in on Sticky Palms' pre-season schedule. Whalley's second to hit the onion bag is a goal to die for. An all-round team effort after a tenacious, breathtaking, surging run by the left-back.
The commotion on the far side has calmed down for the time being. A lady from behind the bar has stormed across and had her two pence worth. The garden gate is slammed firmly shut, leaving the woman aghast.
The ebb and flow of the game continues in the second half. It's another nine goals that ends an entertaining action-packed week of Non-League footy.
Man of the Match: Randolph Turpin
Attendance: 40 (Head Count)
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