Wirksworth Ivanhoe 5-0 Dove Holes FC

Rewind the clock back to March 20th:                                                                                                                    

It's 5pm and I'm emptying the beer fridge at the World's finest taproom, Neon Raptor, in the 'Creative Quarter' of Sneinton Market in inner-city Nottingham - it forms what I call 'The Sneinton Triangle' along with Castle Rock's Fox and Grapes and King Billy on Eyre Street.

I settle up with the proprietor and dash out of the pub with my large stash of cans boxed up. I swing through the front door of the Fox and Grapes as a BBC Breaking News alert flashes up on my phone. Bumbling buffoon Boris Johnson has announced that all pubs are to close from midnight until further notice (probs three months). I down a pint of Snow White pale ale before wishing the barman farewell.

I zig-zag up Carlton Road whilst balancing my two boxes crammed full of craft ale; peering over them to catch the eye of any oncoming pedestrians.  

Ms Moon is revving up the car in Lidl car park like a getaway driver whose accomplices have just robbed a bank or jewellers. We speed off up towards Carlton, heading home, where we will spend pretty much the next three months together, holed-up in our crib.

It's been the longest spring on record; I've worked from home throughout. I may have mentioned in previous dispatches before of my dislike at working away from the office - it's one of the reasons I threw in the towel from life on the road and working from home, to return to an office-based role as a Digital Sales Executive (very posh Sticky).

We've both tried to remain positive during dark times. I've walked and cycled for miles and miles. I've discovered parks, alleyways, nature reserves, lagoons and millionaires' rows that I had no idea existed. It was difficult to even contemplate thinking about football as over 40,000 people lost their lives to Covid-19. 

A chink of light and ray of hope appeared as the lockdown was eased. How did I cope with the closure of pubs? Pretty easy really. I readjusted like most folk did. I joined more beer clubs than Trumpy Bolton. I found a passion, an expensive one mind yer, for craft ales. Left Field Beer, Polly's in Mold, North Wales, Verdant in Cornwall and Deya Brewery, based in Cheltenham, have had some serious shilling(s) off me, and have kept many a DHL courier from going on furlough. Add to that beer shops called Hopology in Bread 'n Lard Island, The Bottle Top on Ruddington High Street and Brew Cavern in Flying Horse Arcade, Nottingham - it's pretty safe to say I've done my utmost to keep the craft ale industry afloat.

It's Monday morning at the crack of dawn. I'm lying in bed in a delightful fisherman's one-bedroom cottage called 'The Ingle' that is sat in 'The Rock' overlooking Barmouth seafront in north west Wales. Wind and rain has battered the cottage throughout the night. It's the end of our four-day stay; we were both desperate for a break and like most folk have cancelled a trip abroad.

Wales was a blast. We visited Bala (a beer shop was involved), Porthmadog, the beautiful seaside town of Criccieth on the Llyn peninsula and completed a 10-mile return walk up the estuary to the coastal village of Fairbourne. You were only allowed to frequent the beer gardens in Wales as drinking inside is still not permitted. Blog legend, Mr Trumpy Bolton, tipped us off on a couple of beauties in the villages of Penmaenpool and the historic town of Dolgellau. 

In 1966 a pleasure boat called the 'Prince of Wales', carrying 42 passengers, hit a toll bridge in Permaenpool. 15 people, including four children, lost their lives in the water. What should have been a straight forward eight-mile trip up the estuary from Barmouth to the George III Hotel ended in tragedy. All 42 people aboard ended up in the water and only the brave actions of hotel staff prevented a heavier loss of life.

Thursday is a glorious day with the sun dripping like honey. I finish work at 4.30pm and drive along the A60 Loughborough Rd before turning into County Hall. I whip out my old faithful boneshaker from the boot, fresh from the repair shop. I cycle in a westwardly direction down the Trent, past the delightful riverside apartments that sit above the water. I jump on a track that runs along the back of the Michelin two-star restaurant Sat Bains and Dunkirk FC. I pass Unity Casuals Cricket Club and pick up the route again at Grove Farm Sports Complex. 

I love riding down here past 'Owen's Place', through Beeston Marina and onto Attenborough Nature Reserve. I'm proper fagged out folks when I arrive home and slump into my garden chair. I'm soon refreshed with a Rhubarbra Streisand craft ale from the Brew York stable.

It's Friday evening and I'm back in the garden again, this time with a watering can in hand despite the threatening rain clouds. Ms Moon has her bestie Jill around for a few drinks and her son Jamie. I take it steady with a can of High Roller from Play Brew in Smoggy Land, Middlesbrough.

I jump in a cab at 7.30 and head south of the river for a few looseners with some pals at a mate's house in West Bridgford. The lads have been hacking it round Radcliffe On-Trent Golf Club in the sweltering heat all afternoon. We head back north over the river. A table has been booked for food at Brewhouse and Kitchen on Trent Bridge. 

The maitre d' announces there's a 45-minute wait for drinks; it takes nearly as long for the menus to arrive. Staff want no interaction and poor old Bobby has to order all the food on an app. How can pubs possibly survive with this attitude? The night is saved by our waiter George, who is quick on his feet and speedy with his service. 

The evening ends with the usual omnishambles that is expected of The Avenue in West Bridgford. We've already walked past a perfectly good watering hole called  Waterside Bar and Kitchen, adjacent to the Tricky Trees City Ground. I'd previously done a reccy of the joint a few Sundays ago and was mightily impressed with the sun terrace renovation - the lads are having none of it, preferring the poncy gin and cocktails bar of Fur Coats and No Knickers territory. CV19 restrictions curtail the evening for Sticky Palms.

We're up and at 'em for 10.30 am on Saturday. I'm bursting at the seams to watch a game of footy, and there's the chance of a double bill of seeing cricket too. I've lined-up some posh sandwiches (poncy) and a cream tea for 'The Princess' at the Trip Advisor 5 star rated Coffee Bunker in the Derbyshire Dales village of Wirksworth.

The trip is a breeze. We shoot up the A60 turning off at Papplewick, going through the back of Hucknall and the village of Linby before joining the M1 at Junction 27. It's a hefty £3 to park the car for a few hours in the village centre. We walk up the narrow, cobbled streets peeking into shop doorways. Sadly for Sticky the local tap house and beer shop is closed for now.

Lunch is spent at the cosy and welcoming Coffee Bunker as we polish off lamb and mint wraps followed by scones smothered in raspberry jam and Cornish clotted cream. It's like a scene from Brideshead Revisited during lunch. Four toffs have rocked up for jasmine tea and pretentious flavoured water. They talk about how they'll make their first million by shooting some films for YouTube TV.

The Recreation Ground is a mile away from the village centre. The ground is a beauty, with the added bonus of a cricket match on too. We do a full circuit of the boundary prior to the football starting. An elderly gentleman takes his place on a memorial bench. He says he's excited to be viewing his first cricket fixture of the season. We wander past a deserted bowling green and hop over a fence before taking up a viewing point on the halfway line. 

The vista up into the hills, shrouded with low white fluffy clouds, is stunning. God, I have missed YOU; the beautiful game: the early breakfast, the banter in the car, the pub lunch, Gambacinni's Pick of the Pops, the guy on the gate, the one-liners, the swearing, the euphoria of a goal being celebrated; even the dishwater colour of a clubhouse cup of tea. Then there's the drive home with moi dissecting the game as Ms Moon switches off Five Live's Sport Report for Rylan Clark-Neal on Radio 2. My spine tingles and my eyes fill with water as we hear the shrill of the referee's whistle that kicks off the game I appreciate it even more now because it was taken away.

All the lads are enjoying it; the thrill of just being out there with your mates. The warm-up. The camaraderie. The game. The pub. Wirksworth race into a 2-0 lead and play some lovely football. The visitors enjoy a good spell 15 minutes before half-time, but are wasteful in front of goal. They concede three more in the second half as endless substitutions disrupt the pattern of play. 

Man of the Match Bill 6 Jacket for Wirksworth. Only player over 30 years old and looked like he enjoyed every second of the game.