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