Hucknall Town 0-1 Heanor Town

I can't describe how much the day out in Radford with Dringy and Craig has lifted my spirits. Big Glenn is beaming from ear to ear as we exit the clubhouse and dash across Radford Road to the nearest tram stop, close to Hyson Green Asda. We alight the tram in Hockley and call by The Curious Tavern, a pub situated in the oldest hotel in Nottingham, now called Mercure, previously known as the George Hotel, where Notts County's Committee and Officers were elected in 1864.

The service in this place is usually an omnishambles. I've had the misfortune, in the past, when with Ms Moon after a few hours relaxation at Broadway Cinema, to get stuck behind a hen party (remember them?) who are ordering about 16x cocktails which will take about two hours to make and shake. Bar staff are having to earn their corn these days, dashing about the place, continental style, with table service only. Our barman is as miserable as sin. We give him the run around with a few rounds of craft ales before heading down to Sneinton Market and it's 'Creative 'Quarter.

I want to show off the UK's Number One taproom to Dringy and Craig. There's no room inside at Neon Raptor but we do manage to grab the last table outside. We finish off on an 8% double Indian pale ale (us hipsters call it DIPA  ... lol). It's goodnight Vienna and lights out for Sticky Palms on arrival back at HQ.

We have breakfast, on Sunday, up at Copper Mapperley, close to one of my favourite haunts, Castle Rock's Bread and Bitter. The plan was to blow away the cobwebs up at Gedling Country Park, but I'm feeling a tad delicate. I make an excuse that my eye is hurting (it's a hangover). I remain rooted in my armchair for the rest of the day, writing the Radford blog. 

It's 8am on Monday and I'm slumped in the back of DG taxi which is fighting its way through the congested roads of Nottingham city centre in rush hour. The taxi takes a familiar path I've become accustomed to over the last five weeks. I settle up with the driver outside the main doors of the QMC's Eye Clinic.

There's the usual comedy eye test with the nurse, where I laugh out loud that I'm unable to see any letters on the board. Today is different though; I can actually see the first three lines. For any new readers, I've had a detached retina and four large tears. I'm called in to see the consultant. My stomach churns as he shines a torch into my eye. It's good news, the retina is still attached. They want to see me in two months' time, when hopefully they'll drain all the silicone oils, sitting behind an air bubble, that protects and heals the retina. My sight should then, fingers crossed, start to improve.

It's no Blue Monday at our crib. I celebrate the good news about the dodgy 'mince pie' with a couple of tinnies. It's looking bleak for Paddy the vet on Emmerdale Farm. His missus, Chas, is playing away, and I don't mean for the Hotton Ladies' team. Serves Paddy right. Didn't he do the dirty with a lass he met on the school run? Anyhow, he's batting well above his league.

Carlton Town v Stamford AFC is the nearest game to me within walking distance on Tuesday evening. Because I've got two cataracts (stop going on about your eyes Sticky) and the aforementioned retina issue, I really struggle with the floodlights shining in my eyes. The choice is: the match with impaired vision or that big wet blanket, Paddy the vet on the Farm shedding a few tears.

I wander down Burton Road past the Blacks Head and Old Volunteer. I've already had a chippy tea from Oceans Fish Bar on Carlton Rd. I walk by Apollo Fish Bar, at the bottom of Carlton, on the border of Gedling. I notice a queue that snakes around the corner. It's definitely one for the notebook the next time the Millers are at home.

There's a feel-good-factor down at Carlton Town. I check-in with track and trace, part with £9 on the gate and buy a raffle ticket with the change. I arrive early so I can tap my feet to the best Non-League playlist on earth that includes The Fall, Killing Joke and The Smiths.

The football is to die for too and is played at a fast and furious pace. Carlton take the lead following great work by Niall Davie down the left. What a moment it is for the 17-year-old winger, Joel Daft, who taps the ball home at the far post to notch his first senior goal.

The second half is one-sided with an experienced Stamford side swarming all over the Millers. They hang on for dear life until the visitors draw level 13 minutes from time. The young Carlton side see the game out, to gain a valuable point, following heroic, resolute defending, by Martin Ball and Toby Moore in particular.

It's official, Nottingham has the fastest-growing infection rate of COVID-19 in England. Students at the University are copping the flak for it. To cheer up all us proper Nottingham folk, Banksy, the street graffiti artist, pays our city a fleeting visit. His/Her latest piece shows a girl hula-hooping a bicycle tyre in the student area of Lenton. 

It's Saturday morning and Sticky Palms' Cleaning Services are running at full power. The highlight of the previous evening was a fridge raid down at Neon Raptor, with Nottingham on the brink of Tier 3. Ms Moon has a full schedule today, but still very kindly runs me over to Hucknall in her Fiat complete with Italian go-faster stripes.

I can see a bald gentleman, wearing a Harrington jacket, necking a dark beer whilst sat at an outside table at Hucknall's Station Hotel. It's a place that holds fond memories for me when I 'worked' in the offices at nearby Linby Colliery from 1982-1985.

Tony McDonald is a Keyworth and Hucknall legend and today he's making his blog debut. I enjoy a pint of Longbow from the Lincoln Green Brewery - it's a beauty - as Mac and I chew over the cud. There's time for another swift one before we make the 25-minute walk down memory lane.

We cross over where the Byron Cinema used to be and head up the High Street with the depressing sight of abandoned pubs. We swing left onto Watnall Road past the Green Dragon where I used to pot a few in my wasted youth. Mac points at the Co-op further up the road on the left. "That was The Flying Bedstead, Sticky." 

It's £5 on the gate. Mac very kindly pays me in. There's time to visit the little boys' room before we take our position further up from the dugouts. Someone up the line shouts "hello Sticky." It's John Harris and wife Jackie. 

The first half is dire and a poor advert for Step 6 football. Attention turns to what Mr and Mrs Harris are having for tea this evening. There has been a faux pas on the food front. Wife Jackie has picked up a fish pie from Sainsbury's 'finest range' only to be told by daughter Lucy, who has invited her parents round for lunch tomorrow, that she is rustling up, yes you've guessed it, a homemade fish pie.

Just shy of 250 folk have rocked up at Watnall Road today. That's some pulling power for this level of football. It's also a good opportunity to cover off payments and expenses for the three officials with a raffle or 50/50 draw - sadly there's no evidence of either (could be COVID related).

Nottingham Forest captain Joe Worrall is a Hucknall lad. I remember seeing his swan song for Hucknall Sports Under 12s in a cup final up at Clipstone Colliery's ground before he signed for the Tricky Trees. I stood that evening with my boss at Notts County, Mick Leonard when I scouted for the Pies. The lad could tackle and head for fun. Forest could do with his passion and leadership right now.

The second half picks up a wee bit, particularly for Hucknall. There are a succession of corners and crosses flying into the Heanor box, but they fail to convert their chances. The inevitable happens and even I have a bird's eye view of it with my dodgy 'mince pie.' Lewis Weaver, who has been marginally flagged offside a few times, beats a high line and offside trap. He races down the right flank, cuts inside, ignores an unmarked colleague before firing a shot into the bottom corner of the net - Sticky Palms doesn't do 0-0s.

The final whistle is blown. Hucknall are worth a point but have been wasteful in front of goal. A drunken home fan, worse for wear, hasn't taken kindly to defeat. He bad mouths the Hucknall manager who wants to front him up. It's a sour ending to the afternoon's proceedings.

Attendance: 248

Man of the Match: Tony 'Dogman' McDonald