Notts County 1-1 Torquay United

It's Monday morning and I've jumped into a cab in Carlton. Destination, for the umpteenth time, is the Queen's Medical University Hospital, in Nottingham. For those of you who are first-time readers of this 15- year-old blog, I've had no sight in my right eye (detached retina) for over 12 months; add to that my other eye has a cataract that requires surgery. Tom, at work, calls me 'The Carlton Stevie Wonder' - I must check-in with HR on that one.

The taxi driver, from Iran, is also down on his luck. He and his wife have saved hard-earned cash since 2008 for IVF treatment, without success. I feel sad and selfish for thinking about my plight. It's good news at the hospital when my consultant, Mr Zaman, sends me for a pre-operation assessment. I'm measured up for a new lense to be fitted sometime in September. I'll finally be able to watch the Soaps with Ms Moon again .. Doh!

I'm happy as Larry as I skip out of the sliding doors of the main entrance and into a taxi. My driver is from Afghanistan. He's angry about the West's withdrawal as he has family stranded out there. I sympathise with him and wish him well. I've a spring in my step for the rest of the day. At close of play I finish off with an 8 mile walk around Colwick Park, a happy place I spent many an hour at during 'Lockdown.'

It's Tuesday evening and the same drill. I wander around the banks of the River Trent and the back streets of Lady Bay with Alex, a good friend from work. We hook up with 'Our Joe' and 'Dafty' at the Stratford Haven in West Bridgford (a pub my father opened)  - it's on a road where one of Nottinghamshire's greatest ever cricketers lived. C.E.B. Rice was a hard-hitting batsman and fiery fast bowler from South Africa. He lived at 246 Stratford Road. How do I know that? Because it was listed in the phone directory.

I bump into an old school pal, 'Tich' Colman, a Keyworth Tavern legend, who works in the brewing industry. It's like a busman's holiday to him as he can 'put more away' than blog legend Trumpy Bolton. Dafty and I stroll up Bridgford Road before meeting up with 'Bally' in the car park of The City Ground' behind the Peter Taylor Stand.

Wolves arrive on the back of a 1-0 reverse versus Spurs on Sunday. Manager, Bruno Lage, makes 7x changes. Nottingham Forest's back five (including their 'keeper) have one League appearance between them. NFFC are battered for 90 minutes despite holding the baying pack 0-0 at the break. 

I'm back at Trent Bridge on Wednesday evening - thankfully it's for cricket and not football. I alight the bus outside Topknot Hair and Beauty, just to the north of the river. I adore Castle Rock's The Embankment pub. It's filling up with cricket supporters who whet their appetite at the prospect of a T20 quarter final clash between Notts Outlaws and Hampshire Hawks.

I wash down a Meatball Melt, wrapped in flatbread, with a pint of Fletchers from a microbrewery in Newark-on-Trent. Traffic is gridlocked as I Jaywalk over Trent Bridge. I enter the ground on Hound Road. I plonk myself in my favourite spot in the Larwood and Voce Stand.

Hampshire are under the cosh from the very first ball and post what looks like a dismal 125-9. The bloke behind me says 145 is a par score. The wicket looks slow and the ball is keeping low, but then again what do I know with only half an eye on proceedings?

Notts have a history of self-combustion and capitulation. I'm dreaming of celebratory beers in Sneinton Market ('The New Covent Garden') as the Outlaws cruise at 65-1. Another Finals' Day beckons at Edgbaston. I rub my eyes in disbelief and pop an extra blood pressure pill as I witness the unthinkable loss of nine wickets for 68 runs. Notts would have been better off sending in 'Nuts' (a squirrel) the mascot rather than 11 jacket Dane Paterson as he feathers a ball to the 'keeper to see Hants through. The away following mock the Trent Bridge faithful with a rendition of an old Joy Division song 'Notts ... Notts are falling apart again." Clive Rice will have been turning in his grave.

I'm so angry with Notts' display that I hardly speak to a soul on Thursday. My mood is lifted with an annual appearance at the Ruddington Beer Festival on Friday evening. I hook up with Tom (Tottenham home and away) and Charlie (Chelsea toff and Rugger fan) on the village green. 'The Keyworth Georgie Best' (my eldest lad) rocks up with a beer in hand, whilst drooling over a rolled-up cigarette that hangs from his lips. He's hung up his boots for KUFC after a 20 years of loyalty - I can't say I blame him, as he was treated appallingly by his previous 'manager.' I go in big on the ABV's from the Bang the Elephant brewery based in Langley Mill. It's bus fare home for Sticky Palms at 9.30 p.m. and lights out before 10.30 p.m. without supper too.

I'm up with the larks on Saturday morning and down at Tesco Carlton just shy of 8.30 a.m. I'm rustling up a prawn linguine tonight, it's a piece of cake folks (just don't tell Ms Moon as I'll string it out). I don't hang around in the supermarket as Craig David is on Radio Tesco - it sees most shoppers scampering towards the exit door.

I mow the lawn and prune the roses before taking a shower and jumping on the No.27 bus into Nottingham. I cross over Southwell Road and walk through the doors of the Fox and Grapes in Sneinton Market. Bar staff are huddled around a radio listening to the fag end of the first half between D***y and Forest. The Rams are a goal to the good. I enjoy a pint of Atlantis from North Brewing Co, based in Leeds. I head past the Nottingham Arena. I get angry when I notice that Michael Ball and Alfie Boe are playing there in December. They couldn't even sell out Carlton Top Spot. 

I love going down Meadow Lane. The Pies remind me of my team, Lincoln City - luck is not often on their side. The hullabaloo of the attention-seeking previous owner, Alan Hardy, is a distant memory. The dreamy, Walter Mitty character promised to get Notts out of League Two - he delivered in his second season as 'U Pies' plummeted into the National League. It never sat comfortable with County faithful that Hardy surrounded himself with Forest fans at Board level. His cronies formed a drinking circle in the pretentious bars of West Bridgford (the Red Side) with then manager Kevin Nolan, but soon spat their dummies out when the forementioned was relieved of his duties following defeat, ironically, at Sincil Bank.

The new owners, in contrast, are under the radar and don't seek the limelight. They have a business model, although BREXIT has wreaked havoc, with points required to work in the U.K. They have, however, managed to capture a couple of players from Torquay, who caught their eye last season. 

I meet another 'Tavern' legend, Alan Jackson, along with his son, Stuart, next to a wall where supporters have bought bricks in an effort to raise much-needed funds. 'Jacko' has five family members named on separate bricks. 'The Taxman (big mates with 'Jacko and myself) is a no-show today. 'Jacko' says he's in hospital awaiting surgery on a hernia - he's had more operations than Darren Anderton.

I'm sat in the Derek Pavis Stand. The playing surface looks immaculate. The DJ's set is decent - 'Pump it Up' by Elvis Costello and the Attractions and 'Juice' by Lizzo are the pick of the bunch.

Notts are slow out of the blocks as the visitors impress in the early exchanges. The Magpies see an effort crash off the woodwork. The game-changing moment is a spoiler for us neutrals (obviously I want Notts to win). Wootton is through on goal and is fouled. It's a straight Red for the offender. Dan Holman, a player I have admired for many years, since his Histon days, is sacrificed on the half hour. Incredibly the Gulls take the lead. The goalie launches the ball down the middle, County fail to deal with it, allowing the ball to bounce, Slocombe, in the nets, hesitates and is beaten in the air by Danny Wright - it's route one at its finest and without finesse.

I chance upon 'Jacko' at the break. He's already on his second packet of Hamlet cigars. He prefers to wax lyrical about his recent Keyworth Bowls Club Doubles Championship win with his partner 'Doc' Martin. He also chuckles when he lets slip that 'The Taxman' is moaning about a soon-to-be enforcement of 20 mph speeds limits in the city centre - I nod in agreement as The Taxman has failed to get out of second gear on most journeys - a little like the Magpies in the first half.

Torquay are pinned back in their own half for most of the second half. There is stoic defending as they block, head away and throw themselves in front of a flurry of crosses. Notts make the breakthrough. A Chicksen cross is headed home by fans' favourite Wootton.

It's all set up for a grandstand finish, but Notts just can't break 'em down. It's like the bull versus the matador. There's a set-to with the two managers on the touchline as Torquay understandably deploy cringeworthy time-wasting tactics - they are on another level to Danny Cowley's Lincoln City

Torquay see out six minutes of injury time with relative ease despite their tiring limbs. Notts will need to put up a better showing in North Wales at big-spending Wrexham on Monday evening, if they don't want to come back empty-handed.

Attendance: 6,934

Man of the Match: 

Mr Zaman, my eye consultant

Thanks to Rich Cooper for ground photo.

Loughborough Students 3-2 Newark FC

The final whistle has blown at The City Ground. Nottingham Forest have lost their opening two League games in the Championship 2-1. A nervy, edgy second half performance puts doubt in the minds of an often forgiving and loyal 'A' Block. Folk exit the ground as Sticky Palms remains in his seat. The queues subside; it's proper COVID central. I'm not anxious about the virus but would rather not contract it.

I head towards the ticket office, to the rear of the Peter Taylor Stand. There are only a handful of supporters queuing for match tickets versus Blackburn Rovers on Wednesday evening. Only three staff are on duty. I hang around for 20 minutes. The Club are an omnishambles on and off the pitch. I leave empty-handed.

The clogged-up pavements have cleared as I walk over Trent Bridge and through the Meadows. I cross over the tramlines onto Arkwright Street. I've 45 minutes to kill before meeting Ms Moon, an old school pal, 'Keebo' and his partner Tracy, for an evening out up at Crafty Crow, on Friar Lane. It's a Magpie Brewery pub, adjacent to a £30 million refurbished Nottingham Castle.

I pull open the front door of the recently re-opened Barley Twist, a Castle Rock watering hole. Nearby is a half demolished Broadmarsh Centre ('The Nottingham Chernobyl'). I nurse a pint of session pale ale as I reflect on the game and where it all went wrong.

High jinks and laughter are had up at Crafty Crow. We alight the bus on Carlton Road; a few stops from home. Supper is served at Carlton Fryer, who rustle up kebab meat and chips to die for. I drink a litre of water during the night.

I do my upmost to walk at least 30 miles per week. It's made easier that I've been unable to drive my car for the last 12 months due to an ongoing eye issue. I always put a big walking shift in on a Monday evening. I love a mooch around Netherfield Lagoons at the back of Victoria Retail Park. It's so peaceful. There are around 6x lagoons which held water that was pumped out of Gedling Colliery, until it's closure in 1991; only a few years shy of its 100-year anniversary.

It's Tuesday evening and I'm looking forward to seeing some Non League action in the land of 'fur coats and no knickers.' West Bridgford (aka 'Bread 'n Lard Island') are entertaining neighbours Dunkirk FC at Regatta Way. I jump off the Ruddington 10 on Trent Bridge and head down Radcliffe Road, adjacent to the Cricket ground. I veer left onto Trent Boulevard and take a right-hand turn onto Rutland Road.

It's an emotional reunion with blog midweek legend 'The Taxman' at the Poppy and Pint pub on Pierrepont Road, in Lady Bay. We chew over the cud and catch up over the events of the last 12 months. He usually has a good old moan about the Tricky Trees; due to COVID he hasn't been this season. It saddens me that this is the case, as he has had a season ticket for over 45 years. We enjoy some tea and a pint of Lil Wingman from Shiny Brewery. We don't speak for half an hour when he reveals his daughter is going out with a D***y Clownty fan - had I been driving I'd have kicked him out of the car following this weak parenting.

The game is superb. Bridgford race into an early two goal lead. The Boatmen peg one back and are very unfortunate not to share the spoils. 'The Keyworth Georgie Best' is in attendance (my lad). It's for the best I don't mention NFFC's form of late or he might kick off Tasmanian Devil style. His mate, Jack Oldham is the best player on show. 

It's rinse and repeat for us bus folk the following evening. There's been a bad accident on Radcliffe Road, close to the ground. The traffic starts to back up. I tip 'Georgie Best' off, but he's already sinking a few scoops in The Boot Room. I grab another award-winning pork cob, accompanied by crackling, stuffing and apple sauce from Relish.

Forest start like a train and pepper the visitors' goal with a flurry of shots in the opening 25 minutes. The malaise begins to creep in and the crowd get onto the players' backs. Rovers take the lead just after half-time. Despite an equaliser, it's the same old story, as another late goal is conceded. 'A' and 'B' Block are frothing at the mouth. They sarcastically sing the name of previous incumbent Sabri Lamouchi and launch a verbal volley at a bewildered Chris Hughton, who is stood slouched on the touchline. It's sad and tragic to witness such desperate scenes.

It's Friday evening and the beginning of the Nottingham Craft Beer Festival. Tony Mac and I are people-watching at Bunkers Hill which is situated in the bustling, hipster area of Hockley. We soon have tears streaming down our faces following a few slurps of a fiery, red hot 7.5% sour called Sunshine on Portobello Road from Vault City Brewing in Edinburgh.

We end up on a proper crawl: taking in Partizan Tavern, Liquid Light (close to the 'Gaza Strip') and finally the Fox and Grapes where we finish off with a 'Sneinton Nightcap' from Pentrich Brewery, an imperial double pale ale called 'Counting in Fives' that comes in at 9% abv - we have a can a piece. It's bus fare home for Jim Bowen.

I'm worse for wear in the spices aisle at Tesco Carlton on Saturday morning. I've already bagged a 2lb neck of lamb from Robin Tuxford, the butcher in Netherfield. I'd stupidly volunteered to knock up a Lamb Rogan Josh t'other night after a couple of stiff craft ales from the Whiplash stable, Ireland, purchased at Junkyard in town. I tap my toe to 'Everything She Wants' from Wham, that's on Radio Tesco, whilst desperately scanning the spices, with my one eye, looking for Garam Masala.

Ms Moon and I have both got the proper hump with those twerps at Tesco since they discontinued Nescafe Alta Rica coffee a few weeks back. It's been on offer at £2.25 for donkeys. We had 15x jars of the chuffer stockpiled in our cupboards. Rationing has hit us hard, so much so, that we had to buy a big jar of it from the Ilkley Co-op after an FA Cup qualifier up there the other week.

Ms Moon has come up trumps with a Greggs sausage roll as we head towards the A60. Gary Davies has been drafted in as a replacement for Paul Gambacinni on Radio 2's Pick of the Pops. 1994 is the year, and a pretty poor one at that. The only chink of light is Neneh Cherry and Youssou 'N Dour singing 7 Seconds. I check for any cracks in the windscreen when Ms Moon belts out the chorus whilst we are stuck in a traffic jam in Ruddington.

It's a nightmare journey to Loughborough, but we still arrive in good time. The two teams crossed swords the previous week in League action. The Students ran out 7-0 winners against a ten men visitors in what a local described as a 'brutal game of football.'

Ms Moon is impressed with the set up. I kid you not, you could play crown green bowls on the playing surface. Loughborough University has a long list of famous sporting alumni including: Lord Coe. Steve Backley, Paula Radcliffe, Sir Clive Woodward and David Moorcroft.

We sit up in the glorious main stand which gives you a panoramic view of the area. Newark F.C. have had to relocate to Basford United in inner-city Nottingham this season due to being hoofed off their own ground next to the Flowserve works'. Ms Moon and I loved going there as there was a real vibe and a proper community spirit. I shan't watch them at Basford - it's 3G innit.

They've been shrewd with their recruitment; a number of lads are from Nottingham including ex Notts County striker Romello Nangle, who I know Keith Curle rated highly. The Club also received a crushing blow on the eve of this FA Cup tie, when it was announced that joint-manager, Steve Kirkham, had moved to pastures new (Eastwood CFC).

It's pretty much the athletisism of the Students versus the physical presence of the visitors in the first half. 7 jacket Matty Bowman is too hot to handle for Newark down the right hand side. Loughborough take the lead when a ball is launched down the middle and latched onto by speedy striker Tope Fadahunsi, who lifts the ball over the on-rushing 'keeper Searson. It could have been 2-0 shortly before the break when the impressive and industrious Ethan O'Toole sees an effort hit the inside of the post. Newark race forward, Will Rawdon whips a first-time ball into the box which is headed home by Danny Meadows.

The highlight at the break is Ms Moon buying a bag of Minstrels from the tea bar. The downside is some awful R 'n B music being piped through the P.A. system.

Newark look a different outfit in the second half and deservedly take the lead following some pinball in the penalty area. The Students hit the wood work again before finally equalising. The game has a brilliant ebb and flow about that all Cup ties should have. In the dying embers of the game substitute Dylan Edwards turns a cross home to put the Students into the FA Cup First Qualifying Round.

Man of the Match: Matty Bowman

Attendance: 170

Nottingham Forest 1-2 AFC Bournemouth

 I'm walking down the hill towards the West Yorkshire town of Ilkley. We've just checked-in to the ghastly Best Western Plus Craiglands Hotel - it's already lived up to its horror show Trip Advisor ratings. I'm buzzing following my first competitive game in ages; an FA Cup Extra Preliminary Round tie just up the road in Silsden.

I sink a couple of quality session pale ales from the Ilkley Brewery, in the Flying Duck, and have a swift one in Friends of Ham, before joining up with Ms Moon for the rest of the evening, as it teems down with rain. A breakfast to die for is enjoyed at Bettys Cafe and Tea Rooms in this wonderful, picturesque town, located in the Wharfedale valley.

I've drank some ales and eaten some nosh at the weekend. I walk it off on Monday evening with a 10- mile hilly climb around Gedling Country Park. It's on the old slag heap of Gedling Colliery. I like to think I'm as fit as a fiddle, but the steep gradients literally take your breath away.

It's Tuesday evening, 5.30 p.m. I exit the door of Ideagen PLC on Ruddington Fields Business Park. They are now an official sponsor of Nottingham Forest under 23s and the Academy. I turn right onto a snicket that leads me through Ruddington Cricket Club and Ruddington FC. It's a ground I saw Keyworth Reserves comeback from 4-1 down in February to win with a last gasp winner from the best (amateur) striker I've ever clapped eyes on. I close my eyes and visualise that winner and the warm fuzzy feeling it gave me for the rest of that day.

I enjoy a pint of Extra Pale Ale from the Nottingham Brewery in the beer garden at Rudd's best pub, The Framebreakers. A short stroll away is one of the world's greatest chip shops - Ruddington Fish Bar. You can't beat a midweek chippy tea, folks. The mini-fish is to die for.

I wander up Wilford Road and take a left-hand turn onto Clifton Lane. I hook up with my old mate James 'Tosh' Turner at Clifton All Whites, whose alumni includes: Jermaine Pennant, Jermaine Jenas and Darren Huckerby (released by Notts County for being too small).

The Clifton DJ should be on a written warning as he tunes us all into Capital FM - back in the day they only used to spin one record, it was called 'Don't You Worry Child' by Swedish House Mafia - I have a head loss and Dicky fit every time I hear it.

Tosh is now Club Ambassador. It saddens me that he's not in situ, in the dugout, but he has a young family to care for. He kicks every ball in the first half, more than All Whites do, for a fact, as they return to the dressing room at half time 4-1 down. There's a slight improvement after the break. I hear the final whistle as I jump into a taxi in The Fairham pub car park.

I'd clocked that U Reds v The Bantams was only £12. I love a night game down The City Ground. I jump off the Ruddington 10 bus, outside County Hall, at 5.15 p.m.  I cross over Trent Bridge as the rush hour traffic begins to build up. I swing by the ticket office and collect my ticket which will see me seated in the Peter Taylor Stand in 'Block B.'

I've a couple of hours to kill. I grab a pork cob with crackling and apple sauce at a place called Relish on Pavilion Road. I spend an hour or so on the Embankment, sat by the river on a bench, people-watching. I'm in the ground as soon as the turnstiles open.

I travelled up to Bradford for a League Cup tie in 1985. The game was played at an old Rugby League and speedway stadium called the Odsal. Valley Parade was being reconstructed following The Bradford City Stadium Fire, during a game versus my team, Lincoln City. 56 spectators died that horrible day and a further 265 were injured when a stand went up in flames due to a discarded cigarette end. Forest ran out 5-0 winners that evening, and we got caught up in some trouble after the game.

Bradford City are managed by the Scot, Derek Adams, who controversially upped sticks having gained promotion from League Two with Morecambe. They also feature striker Lee Angol who failed to impress during spells at Lincoln and Mansfield.

Chris Hughton uses tonight to experiment with the youngsters following an injury time loss at Coventry's Ricoh Stadium on Sunday. Seven players are given their senior debuts. It's an emotional night for a crowd just shy of 10,000. My spine tingles and my heart races as the players emerge from the tunnel. Folk hug one another as they are reunited for the first time in ages.

Bradford give a good account of themselves - Lee Angol shines like a beacon up top for them. He's come on leaps and bounds. Crowd favourite and often the outcast, the Portuguese attacker, Joao Carvalho bags a brace, his second goal is a sublime finish - Main Stand 'A' Block love this lad - but I don't get all the fuss to be honest, as his stats just don't stack up.

I'm on annual leave on Friday. I peg it up Carlton Road and take a seat at Albies, a family-run cafe. I tuck into a hearty breakfast before walking across the 'Gaza Strip' (Sneinton/Carlton border) and onto Station Street.

I meet Tony Mac and 'Coops' in the foyer of the railway station. We jump onto the 11.07 train to Birmingham. We alight the choo at Burton Upon Trent for our 'Real Ale Trail.' Burton is the brewing capital of the U.K. so you can't really go wrong. The Coopers Arms is the pick of the bunch. I bump into some Ipswich Town fans who are stopping over the night as the Tractor Boys play the Brewers tomorrow. I ask them about Teddy Bishop, who 'The Lincoln' have snapped up on a Bosman.

Poor old Coops has had a rough time. I call him the 'Tin Man.' He's had more operations than Darren Anderton. A day on the p**s takes his mind off things, although it's bus fare home for him and a no-show at Neon Raptor where Mac and Sticky mop up with a TIPA and a QIPA - it's commonly known as a 'Sneinton Nightcap.'

Late on Saturday morning I leave a dreamy Ms Moon watching the umpteenth edition of Place in the Sun. I walk 3 miles to The City Ground. The turnstiles open at 1.40 p.m. I'm in like a rat. I don't like to drink alcohol prior to football. I've already sunk a litre of water on the walk down. It's a disgusting £1.80 at the refreshment bar for a small bottle. Jack Savoretti is on the PA system as I take my pew in B4.

There's a lovely touch from Forest before the game. Fans stand and applaud in the memory of supporters who are no longer with us in the last 12 months. Pictures and names appear on giant TV screens. It brings home the enormity of the pandemic as well as the loss of life through other illnesses too.

The Forest DJ ups the tempo and plays a decent set including Born Slippy and Insomnia. 'A' Block run through their playlist too. The atmosphere is electric as 25,000 fans rise and applaud both sets of players onto the pitch.

Forest start like a train. Bouremouth love a foul; they commit four inside the first 10 minutes. For all Forest's pressure there are no shots on goal. The Cherries grow into the game. They take the lead through a brilliantly worked goal by Welsh international David Brooks. Reds' skipper Ryan Yates sees a shot hit the inside of the post and bounce back into play, shortly before half-time.

I pop up to the top of the stand to chat with 'Bally.' Neither of us have been impressed but feel Bournemouth are there for the taking. There's a reason to feel optimistic in the 48th minute when Scott McKenna heads home an equaliser. Ten minutes later the visitors take the lead again with a raid down the Forest right hand side.

There's what should be a game-changing moment, on the hour, when David Brooks is shown a second yellow card. The neutral is starved of the game's best player. Forest can't find a way through a10-man Bournemouth. There's no risk-taking or creativity. 

The crowd beg for Carvalho to be thrown into the fray. It's too late when he finally strips off. The Tricky Trees deserve little and Bournemouth are no great shakes either. The fans (who have been magnificent) seem resigned and used to defeat. There's no anger. Nottingham folk are a cheery lot. After all D***y Clownty conceded twice in injury time. Every cloud has a silver lining.

Man of the Match: That Pork Cob on Tuesday evening.

Attendance: 25,035

Silsden AFC 0-4 Eccleshill United

 

Welcome back reader or hello if you are new to this parish. Where have you been for the last 15 years? Let's rewind the clock. My last mutterings were prior to Christmas, in the Meadows, inner-city Nottingham. Famous footballers such as ex-Foxes Premier League winning captain Wes Morgan and former Arsenal and Liverpool winger Jermaine Pennant were raised on that tough estate. So what's been happening in the last eight months then?

We got lockdown didn't we? I lost my mojo for football. I lost sight in my right eye too, thanks to a detached retina. 12 months down the line and I'm on the road to recovery. I'm just waiting for a new lense to be fitted. The other eye can then be sorted. The only negative thing to say about this positive outcome is that I'll now be able to see the dire/whack TV programmes that Ms Moon enjoys viewing.

I've been shying away from watching football and cricket as my eyesight is still blurry. I even contemplated retiring this diary. On second thoughts, I'd just end up getting tanked up in craft ale bars on Sunday afternoons in the vicinty of Sneinton Market - or as Tony Mac and I call it, 'The New Covent Garden.'

It's onwards and upwards folks as I throw myself into the new season. I've already ticked off a new ground thanks to the generosity of the 'Big Man' who picked me up at the crack of dawn, along with 'Mad Dog' and drove us out towards the east of the country, to the quaint seaside town of Hunstanton, in Norfolk. 

We had breakfast on the seafront and strolled along the beach in wall-to-wall sunshine at Old Hunstanton, before tucking into a few pints of beer in the village of Heacham. We took a game in there too. What a super friendly club Heacham FC were. They even invited us to the Club barbecue that took place after the match. And what a match it was too, with the visitors from Peterborough clawing three goals back to gain an exciting, high-scoring, 3-3 draw. I can't 'arf pick 'em.

I've not driven my car for a year now - it comes as a massive relief to any motorist in Nottinghamshire who has had the misfortunate of getting stuck behind me, sticking to the speed limits in third gear. Being a bus w***er  has its advantages though and this includes the Ruddington No.10 dropping me bang outside the entrance to my current favourite craft ale bar, Junkyard Bottle Shop and Pour House. It has a bigger beer menu than the Munich Beer Festival - but as Tony Mac quite rightly says "drinking craft ale is not a game for children" and you need to keep your wits about you when you're catching the bus home in Sneinton.

It's Thursday morning and I'm on the No.27 Carlton to Nottingham bus. I alight on King Street and waltz into Bill's on Queen Street for a full English. The place is bustling with folk as it's Day Two of the 1st Test between England and India. After 20 minutes of being seated and ignored by waitering staff I exit the place, giving the manager an earful outside the main door. Greggs will have to do for breakfast.

A rain-interrupted day is spent with the 'Lord Mayor', 'Dafty' and 'Bally' in the 'Yui Energy Stand.' I've been as good as gold all morning and not touched a drop of 'alcohol' that's available on tap. India's number one cricket fan, Jitz Jani, texts me to say 'Dringy', him and a few of the Plumtree CC lads are crossing the water to 'North Bridgford' for a lunchtime session at Sticky's favourite, The Embankment.

We leave our seats with one over remaining. There's a huge cheer as we walk down Hound Road - there's been a wicket at the cricket. We miss three more including a golden duck for Indian captain Virat Kohli - leaving 39 year-old Jimmy 'the Burnley Express' Anderson on a hat-trick. Rain curtails play for the rest of the day - I've not seen a flipping wicket.

I'm back wandering through the city centre on Friday lunchtime. I'm strolling up towards the train station, sporting a 'World in Motion' New Order T-shirt. A drunken, homeless man, clutching a can of strong cider, dances towards me, singing the lyrics of the song. It's a great tactic but I haven't a bean on me to give to him. I'll keep an eye out for him next Friday, as I'm on a real ale trail at Burton Upon-Trent.

I'm at the Ideagen PLC Garden Party - the company who I'm proud to work for. They are a sponsor of Nottingham Forest FC too. I hook up with new colleagues who I haven't met due to lockdown. Again, I'm as good as gold. I have a can of coke (the drink not the powder) - it feels uncomfortable to be supping alcohol at work.

 I soon make up for it in the evening, as I join forces with the Ideagen Baby Squad at The Frame Breakers, on High Street, in the south Notts village of Ruddington. One of the youngsters shouts up 8x shots of 'Baby Guinness' (don't ask me   .. I just drink it to be accepted). The night continues at Junkyard and ends for Sticky Palms in the wonderful Six Barrels in Hockley. A 7.4% IPA can of Ham Sandwich from a brewery in Kent is a lovely way to knock it on the head. My mate, Alex, was enjoying the same tipple, until it was knocked out of his hands by a lass at work - her fourth 'accident' of the evening.

Ms Moon and I are up and at 'em by 9 a.m. on Saturday. We're in the 'Italian Stallion' ( Ms Moon's Fiat 500 with go-faster stripes emblazoned on it). You could flip a coin to choose the quickest route to Ilkley. We opt for the A1 as we fancy a stop-off at the West Yorkshire town of Otley. 

The place is bustling with folk. Ms Moon has got the face-on as there isn't a Costa in sight - I much prefer the smaller, independent places. The good lady queues up for a brew as I take a few snaps. We both enjoy our short time here. A brass band strikes up as I eye up one or two watering holes for our impending overnight stay later in the season.

We're very lucky to grab a table at the glorious Wheatley Arms just outside Ilkley town centre. This Good Pub Guide main entry is hosting a large wedding anniversary celebration. The bar manager squeezes us in before the guests begin to arrive. We've both missed our pre-footy pub lunches during the pandemic. Ms Moon bags a posh fish finger sandwich, whilst I prefer a hot beef panini drenched in onion gravy. 

The good lady (Ms Moon) is well known in this blog for making outlandish sweeping statements. A cover version of the classic 1978 hit 'Love Don't Live Here Anymore' by legendary USA soul group Rose Royce is on the pub i-Pod shuffle. "Jimmy Nail did the best version of this" announces Ms Moon. I choke on my beef and wave frantically at the waiter, gasping for air and gesticulating for water. I wipe sweat from my brow and pop another blood pressure pill. We don't speak until we return to the car.

As we get out of the car at Silsden a cricket match is taking place. By the time we've walked 200 yards two wickets have fallen. The opposing side have been rolled over for 29 runs. I chat to the groundsman and tell him how good the wicket looks - it's the least I can do. To be fair, it looks a belter. Low black clouds have played their part.

It's £6 on the gate for this FA Cup Extra Preliminary Round tie. It's £1.50 for an excellent programme and £1 for a golden goal ticket which I hand to Ms Moon. The ground is a beauty and the views take my breath away; a bit like Jimmy Nail's cover version(s). 

The ground has had tender loving care in abundance. We sit on a bench outside a new building. Sue and I are greeted by friendly vice chairman John Lohan. He has been involved at Silsden for over 30 years and is very proud of the progress made in ground improvements despite having to cope with COVID.

Both teams are in the same League, so the game's expected to be a tight affair. Silsden fluff a few chances early doors. But the visitors begin to grow into the game. They have more structure and a firm game plan. The highlight of the half is a Yorkie Duo at 75p from the tea hut. I chance upon a groundhopper from Stowmarket, in Suffolk. He's also treating his missus to a weekend oop North. Not only that, he's at AFC Emley tomorrow and attending three games up in Scotland midweek - he knows how to look after a lady.

Silsden are poor in the second half as the visitors run riot. Four goals are scored at our end; the second and third are well crafted; just like the ales I'll be supping in Ilkley hostelries this evening.

Attendance: 192

Man of the Match: Left back for the visitors.