Burton Albion 1-2 Lincoln City

We return to Halifax train station after a comfortable 2-0 win for the Tricky Trees over the Terriers of Huddersfield. There are a few Rozzers knocking about as Stockport County have been playing at The Shay. I move out of our hotel and slog it across town up to a Premier Inn. A Forest Tyke has very kindly tipped me off, on twitter, about a craft ale tap house close by. 

The Grayston Unity is a beauty and is set in a Grade 2 listed building. The friendly bar staff advise me to go to Dukes and Kobenhavn. I finish the night off in the wonderful Victorian Craft Beer Cafe. It has 10x hand-pulls and 18 beers on tap. The ambience and vibe is made even greater with the bar filling up after a John Bishop gig at the theatre around the corner.

The majority of Sunday is spent in the quaint town of Holmfirth where 31 series and 295 episodes of the BBC comedy Last of the Summer Wine was filmed. We stroll up the hill to the churchyard where 'Compo' and 'Cleggy' are laid to rest in adjacent graves. What makes it even more remarkable is that both actors, Bill Owen and Peter Sallis, weren't northerners, but in fact Londoners. Earlier in the day there was a second aborted attempt to find the grave of wrestling legend 'Big Daddy' (Shirley Crabtree) in Halifax.

I tick off a few more real ale houses and craft tap rooms, including Magic Rock Brewery, who sell their beers to many supermarket chains. The long weekend is finished off at the Yorkshire Sculpture Park, close to the City of Wakefield. The park comprises of over 100 sculptures set in 500 acres of woodland in the 18th Century Bretton Hall Estate. It's a steal at £6 entry per person.

It's Tuesday evening. I've eased myself back into work and I'm now sitting in my armchair, like Jim Royle, watching (suffering) Emmerdale Farm. The latest news is that Cain Dingle has given somebody another good hiding. The bloke has made more court appearances than Rumpole of the Bailey. The only other piece of news to report is that Amos Brearly, the landlord of the Woolpack, has changed a barrel of Timothy Taylor's.

Things go from bad to worse the following evening when it is announced, from the set of the cobbled streets of Weatherfield, in Coronation Street, that crowd favourite Norris Cole has sadly passed away. Rita will have to wheel in a replacement paper lad at The Kabin.

I've a planning meeting at Junkyard Bottle Shop and Pour House, on Bridlesmith Walk, in Nottingham, with Tony Mac at Thursday teatime. I'm waiting for a big operation on my dodgy 'mince pie' so have to do everything at short notice. The plan was to go boozing down east London for a few days. After a couple of big-hitting craft ales we opt for a day and night in Leeds, followed by a Trans Pennine Real Ale Trail, by rail, the following day, finishing off with a few early evening scoops in Wakefield.

I return home to the devastating news of the sudden death of our fridge freezer. The knock-on effect is how the heck am I going to keep my craft ales cold? Ms Moon is crying a river of tears as her Prosecco is at room temperature. We're relying on Amazon to deliver a beer fridge in the next 24 hours otherwise the weekend will be in ruins.

Amazon have come up trumps; the fridge is delivered at 6 p.m. Ms Moon is a bit miffed as she was watching The Chase. Beers and bubbles are fridged up; happy days are here again. It's an early night as it feels like Christmas Eve. It's near on 20 months since I last saw 'The Lincoln' play. They produced some of the best football in their 137- year-old history last season - the fans hardly saw a ball kicked. Our fantastic manager Michael Appleton is recovering from cancer. I love him to bits.

Ms Moon drops her daughter, Becky, off at The Plough at Normanton, on the Old Melton Road, in the picturesque village of Normanton on-the-Wolds, in south Notts. She is the general manager at this cosy gastro pub, where I spent many an evening drinking underage, back in the early 1980s - chain-smoking John Player Blue and potting a few Shipstone's ales whilst feeding the Space Invaders machine in the foyer.

After battling through traffic near to Clifton Bridge we jump onto a dual carriageway and hare down the A453 in Ms Moon's Fiat 500 with the Italian go-faster stripes. I pick up the tickets from the ground whilst Ms Moon sticks the car in an industrial estate a five-minute walk away. We chance our arm as there aren't any signs threatening wheel-clamping or £50 fines.

Burton upon Trent is a market town in Staffordshire with a population of over 70,000. It is well known for brewing and exporting beer. At its height it sold 25% of Britain's beer. Sticky Palms loves a pint of Bass or Burton Bridge. Notable people from the town include: the brilliant actor Paddy Considine from Dead Man's Shoes and singer Joe Jackson. The Marmite Food Extract Company was founded in the town in 1902. This by product came from the yeast at the nearby brewery.

There's no posh nosh lunch sat by a canal today. It's muck 'n nettles at Greggs. The sausage roll is nae bad, but the caramel doughnuts aren't a patch on Birds in Sherwood. We wander down Derby Road before crossing over onto Derby Street. I have arranged to meet an old schoolmate, who I've known for over 50 years, at The Alfred public house.

'Robbo' rocks up with his lad Charlie, who has just finished a shift at a butcher's in Leek. I've already sunk a pint of 'Stairway to Heaven' from the Burton Bridge Brewery at 5% abv, in an attempt to settle my nerves. I can already feel my stomach knotting and tightening as the anxiety kicks in. For God's sake I'm meant to enjoy these games. 

We enjoy a catch up as a lot has happened in our lives since we last met. I've lost eyesight in my right eye (not that sob story again Sticky) and Robbo has had two knee replacements. His lad is a chip off the old block. He's a tough tackling footballer and a decent all-rounder at cricket.

The teams are filing out of the tunnel as we stand on some concrete steps to the back of the North Stand (home end). 1000 Imps have made the 130 mile-round trip. They are in good voice despite a slow start to the season. Lincoln have been ravaged by injury; they field a side with the average age just shy of 22 years old. Skipper Liam Bridcutt is missing today. He is a huge role model and influencer on this young team.

Lincoln are electric in the first thirty minutes. They bamboozle the Brewers with some fast-flowing two touch passing. On-loan Manchester City 19-year-old attacking midfielder, Lewis Fiorini, puts them ahead on 10 minutes with a 22 yard daisy cutter. Burton finish the half strong. Daniel Jebbison is guilty of a glaring miss.

We chew over the cud at the break as 'I Bet You Look Good on the Dance Floor' by Arctic Monkeys booms out of the P.A. system. Robbo isn't too happy with the shift Burton have put in. There are reasons to feel more optimistic in the second half, but again chances go begging. 

The Imps are lightning on the break. In-form Anthony Scully, a free transfer from West Ham United, bags his 10th goal of the season with a smart finish. Burton can feel hard done by. They are camped in the Lincoln half for the last 30 minutes. There are goal-line clearances and a magnificent one-handed save by 20 year-old 'keeper Josh Griffiths. Albion have hope when clawing a goal back they richly deserve with five minutes remaining. Lincoln hit the post when it looks easier to score and sub Remy Longdon trips over the ball with only the 'keeper to beat.

The travelling fans are loud and on good form; they might need to brush up on their geography though: "You're just a small town in Derby" is volleyed back with "We're in Staffordshire you idiots."

Robbo isn't too happy at the final whistle. 27 attempts at goal and only one cherry dropped in. I can't 'arf pick 'em. Ms Moon's 12th away game with the Imps and the lucky mascot has yet to see them defeated.

Attendance : 3359

Man of the Match: Regan Poole

Huddersfield Town 0-2 Nottingham Forest

It's Wednesday 15th September. I'm sat in the Brian Clough Lower Stand at The City Ground. USA international 'keeper Ethan Horvath has just made a hash of a firmly struck back-pass which results in a tap-in for Middlesbrough's Cuban centre-forward Onel Hernandez. My mate, Tom, (Spurs fan home and away), is sitting next to me. We are housed adjacent to the Middlesbrough fans who have turned out in numbers on a school night. Tom has had some beef with the 'Boro fans - they have exchanged verbals and finger salutes. On 80 minutes he announces he's had enough and troops off up the steps towards the exit. He's clocked by the 1600 travelling army who serenade him with 'Cheerio, Cheerio Cheerio.' His parting shot, before disappearing into the night, is a raised middle finger, Rodney Trotter style, which is greeted with cheers and laughter by the Smoggies.

24 hours later Chris Hughton is relieved of his duties as manager of the Tricky Trees, with less than 12 months in the hot seat. It's a sad statement of affairs, but there can be little argument when you look at the stats and analyse the style of play. Former Swansea manager, Steve Cooper, is installed as red-hot favourite by the bookies.

Ms Moon is relaxing by the pool in the Algarve. It gives me the run of the house and control of the TV remote. There's a double helping of Champions League football on the box. There's heartache for Jesse Lingard and Manchester United and further misery inflicted by Bayern Munich on cash-strapped Barcelona. I was meant to be up at Gedling Miners' Welfare v Belper United, but it was postponed shortly before kick-off on twitter, without a reason given. It was wanging down with rain, so if I'm honest, I didn't really fancy it, despite missing out on a chippy tea at Plains' Fish Bar.

It's Friday morning 9 a.m. Piers and Bruiser have rocked up in Carlton. I chuck my case into the boot of his Audi 3 and we speed off towards the M1 North. We're spending four days sight-seeing up in West Yorkshire. First point of call is Stoodley Pike, a 1300 foot hill that leads you up to a 120 ft monument that dominates the moors of the Calder Valley, overlooking the market town of Todmorden. I gasp for air as I reach the summit. The descent is even trickier, as we hit a patch of bogland which we skilfully circumnavigate around.

I quench my thirst at the canal side of Stubbing Wharf in the delightful town of Hebden Bridge. We stroll into town. I tick off the Vocation craft ale bar. It's owned by a guy who worked for Blue Monkey Brewery in Giltbrook, Nottingham. He's recently opened bars in Manchester (Society) and Leeds (Assembly Underground) too. The latter has 50x different beers on tap.

We finish the evening in Halifax. The car is parked up close to Piece Hall, an 18th Century cloth hall that now has exhibitions, shops and bars. New Order played a gig here the other week which my good mate Tony Mac attended. The night is seen off with dinner at Shibden Mill, an award-winning countryside pub that's established since1890.

It's Saturday morning and the sun is shining through the curtains of the Shakespeare Hotel, in Halifax. I've had an interrupted night's kip. A pub belted out Karaoke tunes until late into night. There were numerous incidents of shouting and bawling beneath my hotel window, well into the early hours of the morning.

The skies are clear blue and the temperature is rising as I stretch my legs around this Northern, hidden gem of a mill town. We zip up to Lister Lane Cemetery to see if we can pay our respects to wrestling legend 'Big Daddy' (Shirley Crabtree). The gates are padlocked with notices saying that the next opening time will be 10 a.m. on Sunday.

We jump on the rattler at the train station that heads towards Huddersfield via the town of Brighouse, famous for it's brass band's Number One single in the 1977 with the Irish DJ and TV presenter Terry Wogan.

It's a gorgeous day with sun-kissed skies as we alight the train. We soak up the sun on the patio of the Head of Steam pub, outside the station. In full view is the statue of the pipe-smoking Labour prime minister Harold Wilson. He had two spells in charge, a bit like King Billy Davies at Forest.

Huddersfield has a population of over 160,000. It's a market town of Victorian architecture with the railway station being a Grade 1 listed building. The poet, Sir John Betjeman, described it as 'the most splendid station facade in England.' Notable people to come from the town include: Rt Hon Harold Wilson, footballers Cameron Jerome, Andy Booth and Fraizer Campbell and actors Gordon Kaye (Allo Allo) and James Mason.

Piers and Bruiser go to a tearoom. I'm desperate to tick off The Grove on Spring Grove Street. Steve, the landlord at Partizan Tavern, tipped me off about this wonderful two-roomed pub with its selection of 19x ales. I have a couple of drinks from the Brass Castle and Thornbridge stables before hooking up with the lads in The Magic Rock Stand at Huddersfield Town's John Smith's Stadium.

Ms Moon and I visited here a few years ago when ironically Joe Lolley scored in a 4-1 defeat to West Ham United. There's a nice, friendly welcome from the stewards and local police. Forest are low on confidence and without a League win this season. Ex Millwall, Blackburn and WBA defender, Steven Reid, has been appointed as caretaker manager.

The formation has changed to 3-4-3. It allows Forest to get on the front foot. They are on it from the start. The shackles are released from the much-maligned Ryan Yates. Lewis Grabban leads the line instead of sitting in pockets.

Brennan Johnson makes a lung-bursting run down the right wing, smoking off his opponent. The cross is pinpoint but still expertly headed home by Grabban. Forest play a beautful, high tempo game of passing football. They look likely to increase their lead but have to settle for a narrow winning margin at the break.

The Forest away following have been relentless in their backing of the Reds. They also enjoy singing about the demise of their bitter rivals D***y 'fiver in the bank' County. Raucous celebrations happen on 48 minutes as the Tricky Trees deservedly double their lead when a Joe Lolley shot is turned into his own net by 'keeper Lee Nicholls.

Apart from a few surging runs by former Lincoln City full back Harry Toffolo, Huddersfield offer very little threat. A header is guided agonisingly wide after a corner. Forest see out the game superbly. To a man they are excellent. Middlesbrough loanee, Djed Spence, is the pick of the bunch.

Eyes now turn to the Millwall game next Saturday at The City Ground, with the probable arrival of Steve Cooper, after compensation is agreed with Swansea City to 'buy out his contract.'

Attendance: 17,462

Man of the Match: Piers for piloting all weekend.

Radford FC 1-2 Aylestone Park

We're on the outskirts of the city of Bath, having just watched a wonderful game of football at the Memorial Ground. Ms Moon and I are both too fagged out to walk. We catch a bus back into town. The good lady goes back to our boutique hotel, whilst I take the opportunity to tick off a few more Good Pub Guide entries. The evening is spent in the back garden of The Boater. We end the night at a snug craft bar on Pulteney Bridge.

The M5 and M42 are very kind to us on Sunday morning. I'm propping the bar up of the Partizan Tavern on Manvers Street, Sneinton, by 2 p.m. I return home after a couple of sherbets to settle in for the evening and write up my blog.

I'm quite chipper on Monday morning as I've clocked that Nottingham Forest U23s are playing Blackburn Rovers U23s across the river at Notts County's Meadow Lane. The two Nottingham clubs have patched up their differences since the fall-out with the Pies' previous owner Alan Hardy.

It's just shy of 7 p.m. and still stifling hot, as I part with £5 on the turnstile and 50 pence for a team-sheet. There's a healthy turnout of fans happy to watch any game right now, having been deprived for so long during Covid. I walk past ex Forest and Ipswich Town striker David Johnson, who is chatting to a couple of players.

I park myself behind the Forest dugout where former Republic of Ireland international Andy Reid will be coaching for the Tricky Trees. Quite a few fans have made the trip down from the north-west, watching Lancashire CCC ending the day's play over the water at Trent Bridge Cricket Ground. Forest field a strong line up which includes some youngsters with first team experience. Joe Lolley gains valuable minutes. He bags a brace and sticks out like a sore thumb as Forest breeze to victory 4-1.

It's Tuesday evening. I slide open the French window door, leaving Ms Moon to Emmerdale Farm and Celebrity MasterChef. I've a spring in my step as I head down Burton Road. You can't beat a chippy tea folks; even more so if it's a tick off. They are queuing out of the door at Apollo Fish Bar on another baking evening. A cheery shop owner serves me up a 'Fish Special' for £3.99. It's not quite up to the standard of Oceans on Carlton Road, but nonetheless not a scrap of food is left in the tray as I deposit my chip wrappers in a bin next to the Inn For A Penny pub.

It's my first visit of the season to Carlton Town's Stoke Lane ground. I love a night out watching the Millers, under the floodlights. It's £9 on the gate. The DJ's set is like listening to Steve Lamacq on 6 Music. New Order, Mansun, The Fall and Echo and the Bunnymen are the stand-out tracks.

The Millers start like a train. They could be 4-0 up in the first half an hour. The impressive Niall Davie is denied a hat-trick by the woodwork and a goal-line clearance. The visitors, Sutton Coldfield Town, concede twice in the final 15 minutes. One of the goals is scored by 19-year-old Louis Czerwak, a lad Mick Leonard and I picked up for Notts County Academy, when he was playing football on Forest Recreation Ground, in Forest Fields, 10 years ago.

It's Friday morning and I'm on the phone to Nat West Bank, sorting out a five-year fixed mortgage rate on the house. The weekend starts for me today. I walk through Netherfield and cross the road onto Victoria Retail Park. I loiter outside the entrance of a DIY store as a silver-haired chap saunters in my direction. It's 'Chopper Harris', my hiking partner. 

We stroll past British Car Auctions and cross over a small bridge onto a narrow path which leads us towards Netherfield Lagoons. Slurry used to be pumped into the lagoons from nearby Gedling Colliery until its closure in 1991. Some steps, close to a viaduct, lead us onto a footpath that runs adjacent to the River Trent. 'Chopper' spends most of the walk moaning about Gareth Southgate and his reluctance to use substitutes. There's more pressing matters like a pint of Guinness to look forward to at The Unicorn Hotel at Gunthorpe.

There's a chance encounter with an angry cyclist (aren't they all?) He nearly mows down 'The Carlton Stevie Wonder' on a public bridleway due to his wreckless cycling. He wants a scrap, folks. Chopper, a former paratrooper, who toured Northern Ireland during the Troubles, just laughs in the perpetrators face.

I'm out on my feet. I've already clocked up 15 miles. I shower, scrub up and head into Nottingham city centre. I make the fatal mistake of mentioning to Tony Mac, during our first craft beer of the evening, at Kean's Head, that I'm in no rush to return home as Ms Moon has her bestie, Jill, round for the evening. Eight pubs later I'm regretting this as Ms Moon waves a straight Red card at me on my return to HQ. Looks at this line up though: Six Barrels, Junkyard, Jam Cafe, Bunkers Hill, Neon Raptor, Liquid Light, Partizan Tavern and Fox and Grapes.

I'm dog tired on Saturday morning, but not particularly hungover - vegan beer doesn't have harmful chemicals. I rustle up a couple of bacon sandwiches topped with melted Harrogate blue cheese and some mayo - yum yum.

There's some last-minute holiday shopping for Ms Moon, who is flying out to the Algarve tomorrow with Jill. I was all set for a game at Southwell City's War Memorial Ground. The game has been postponed with no reason given - I did notice that the lads were on a team-bonding session in Lincoln last Saturday evening.

I scour the internet on the lookout for a fixture on a bus route not too far from Carlton, as I have to be back early as I'm on cooking duty. I scroll down the United Counties League and spot a beauty with my one good eye. One person won't be happy though and that's Big Glenn Russell, manager at Radford FC, who entertain Aylestone Park from Leicester, a club where Gary Lineker started his career.

I hop off the bus at the bottom of Carlton Road and peg it up Huntingdon Street where the nightclub Michael Issacs used to be, back in the 1980s. I frequented this dump on one occasion in 1987. Having been subjected to Alexander O'Neal, Luther Vandross and Womack and Womack, I was asked to leave for having the audacity to insist the DJ play The Smiths, 'Hang the DJ.'

As I head across Mansfield Road I notice a police cordon outside a curry house. A man was stabbed twice in the early hours of the morning and is fighting for his life. I take a shortcut across Forest Rec (Goose Fair site). It's one of my favourite parts of multi-cultural Nottingham. There's a Big Top and circus in town. 

If I'm honest, I get the welcome I was expecting at Selhurst Street, having paid 'ASBO' (the turnstile operator) £5 on entry. "What the f**k are you doing here, you Jonah?" Told you folks, the Big G isn't happy. Radford more than often lose with Sticky in attendance. Glenn's looking slick. Not sure if he's got Brylcreem in his hair or Wella Shockwaves mousse. We exchange insults for 10 minutes before I take up my viewing position close to the visitor's dugout.

Radford look off it in the first half. They are second to the ball and can't string two passes together. Having said that they are given a golden opportunity to take the lead after what appears a soft penalty decision. The spot kick isn't convincing and is well saved. Aylestone Park fluff their lines in the penalty area as the score remains 0-0 at the break ( I don't do 'em do I folks?).

I can hear the winning raffle numbers being shouted over the PA system as I call up DG Taxis to book a cab. I rifle my pockets for my tickets that are tangled up in my mask along with my house keys. Jeez, my numbers are 111- 115 the winning ticket is  ... yes you've guessed it, 116 - 120. I have a private hissy fit.

I stand in between the dugouts for the second half. The one-liners are worth the gate money alone. Crowd favourite Joe Meakin scores a worldy volley. The oppostion bench are whinging and moaning like mad. Their team lack discipline. Shay Brennan is sin-binned for mouthing off at the ref. He returns to the pitch to level the scores, converting a beautifully flighted cross by 8 jacket, the game's best player.

The Aylestone full back tries to steal a few yards from a throw-in. He has the misfortune to bounce off Big Glenn who was patrolling the lines. Glenn's eyesight isn't the best, but it's harsh (and foolish) that he's called a 'boggle-eyed' c-bomb by the player. Mr Magoo would be more apt.

I start to wander towards the exit as I know what's coming next. It's like the Greek tragedy that's played out each week at The City Ground. Aylestone score a scruffy goal in the dying embers. I jump into a taxi at the final whistle knowing I'm banned from the ground and blocked on Big Glenn's mobile until further notice.

Man of the Match: Big Glenn - Love him to bits.

Thanks for photos Cliff x

Bath City 1-3 Dartford

Somerset is a county that has always captured my imagination. I visited the the seaside town of Weston Super Mare on a cricket tour, which was wiped out by two days' of rain. I've also stopped the night at Cheddar Gorge, in the Mendip Hills, on the way to Cornwall. Bath has been on my radar for some time now. I was sorely tempted to make a week of it with Notts CCC playing Somerset CCC in a four-day game that started on Bank Holiday weekend in Taunton - the logistics and timings didn't work out.

We wander around Colwick Country Park on Bank Holiday Monday, adjacent to Nottingham Racecourse. It's a feeble attempt to walk off a full English fry up at the superb family-run cafe, Albie's, up on Carlton Hill, a mile outside Nottingham city centre. 

Ms Moon drops me off in Sneinton Market. Most of the pubs don't open until 4 p.m. I take a stroll up Hockley. I've worked up quite a thirst that I need to quench. It's 30% off craft beer cans stored in the fridge at Six Barrels. I'm joined by my good mate Tony Mac, who is on his way home after a shift at Boots. We finish off with a Sunshine on Portobello from Vault City which comes in at £11 per bottle. You have to share or you'd end up in accident and emergency, as well as bankrupt too.

I'm in the office on Tuesday. I love the banter with the young guns who are nearly all half my age. I jump off the bus on Trent Bridge and walk a lap of the river before crossing over onto Radcliffe Road and down Trent Boulevard. Tea is spent at the Poppy and Pint, named by a local newspaper competition winner, which was picked out by ex-England Test spinner, Graeme Swan, who still lives in the area.

I enjoy another spicy burger which is washed down by a pint of Hello Traveller from Shiny Brewery, who are based in Little Eaton, just outside D***y. Destination tonight is Regatta Way, a venue I can easily reach on foot. It's £5 on the gate. Once again I'm the first supporter in the ground. Big Glenn Russell's Radford FC are in town this evening. The big lad isn't talking to me at the moment as I've forgotten to return a couple of missed calls. He's even accused me of blanking him - it's banter of course (I think?).

I'm joined by 'Dringy' who I haven't seen since a monster sesh at Neon Raptor and Jam Cafe, in Baltic conditions, early post lockdown. The Pheasants of Radford play a beautiful game but are missing their two star strikers. Euan Sweeting scores a brilliant-worked winner for West Bridgford. I'm visually impaired and standing on the far side, opposite the dugouts, so I'm unable to see if Big Glenn has frisbeed his baseball cap in a fit of pique. I feedback to him, the following day, how impressed I was with Joe Meakin and Gino Kelleher, who big things were expected of when he was a scholar at Notts County. I was once stood next to ex-QPR winger Don Givens, who had flown over from Ireland to scout Gino, when he managed Ireland's U21s.

It's Friday morning and Ms Moon is in a taxi bound for Enterprise Rent-A-Car on Daleside Road, in Colwick. Today we're off to Bath for a two night stay. My car is SORN as I can't drive at the moment and we both don't fancy the long journey in Ms Moon's Fiat 500 with the go-faster stripes. So we've hired a Vauxhall Corsa for a couple of days.

There's a major incident at Junction 9 on the M5. I'm not talking traffic jams either folks. Sticky Palms has blown a gasket after losing to Ms Moon on Ken Bruce's PopMaster music quiz. There were loads of questions on girl groups and whack USA soft rock bands - both favourite genres of the good lady. I remain on mute and tight-lipped until Junction 15 as defeat sinks in.

We stick the car in a multi-storey car park at Southgate Shopping Centre and check-in at Eight, a smart boutique townhouse hotel, nestled in the old part of the city, close to Bath Abbey. The sun burns off the clouds as we head into Bath. We stroll up to Royal Victoria Park, opened by an 11-year-old Princess Victoria in 1830. She was never to return to the city again due to a overheard disparaging remark made by a local resident about the thickness of her ankles.

The park spans over 57 acres of land. We stop by a children's adventure playground for a spot of late lunch and return to town via The Crescent where one of the 30 properties, built in 1774, is on the market for £1.2 million. 

I turn down a very kind offer from Ms Moon of watching The Chase quiz show in the hotel room - I'm still sore from my loss earlier in the day. I pound the cobbled back streets of Bath ticking off a few Good Pub Guide entries. We meet later for drinks before dining at La Perla on North Parade.

I've an action-packed Saturday morning lined-up. After another full English we jump on the hop on hop off bus that does a tour of the city. It's a waste of £34 to be honest as we spend half the time stuck in traffic. The tour guide lacks humour and could easily put a glass eye to sleep. 

It's time for the seasonal debut of Celebrity Grave Hunt. I've got a pearler set up for today. A fagged out Ms Moon slogs it up the hill in stifling heat towards Bath Abbey Cemetery. The place is unkempt and abandoned. Most of the graves are covered or hidden with overgrown grass. 'Private Godfrey' (Arnold Ridley) from Dad's Army is buried with his parents in here. Ms Moon chances upon his grave. She's smug and proud that she found it before me. I'm fuming again.

I get my own back as I make her walk just shy of 3 miles to the wonderful Twerton Park, a ground I last visited in 1987 when I witnessed 'Charlie' McParland miss three one-on-ones as Notts County drew 0-0 against Bristol Rovers. The thing I remember from that day was a landlord at a pub near the ground saying that he witnessed legendary Nottingham Evening Post sports journalist Dave McVay speed-drink four pints in half an hour. His reports in Monday's edition were a joy to read.

It's £15 to sit in the old main stand. The ground, built in 1909, is to die for. There's floodlight porn and jaw-dropping views.To my right is the terrace, open to the elements and vulnerable to wintry conditions. I love the white-painted crash barriers, rarely seen in English grounds. 

Table-topping Dartford are today's visitors. They are managed by Steve King. I came across King when I was in recruitment at Notts County. He was hawking a 16-year-old boy around the circuit called Joe Ralls, who was playing for Farnborough Town. It was at the time Sven Goran Eriksson was at Meadow Lane and the rumours were that the club (Notts) were awash with money. My boss and I watched Ralls in an FA Youth Cup game. King, dressed in a cashmere coat and pork pie hat turned up at a Pies' youth game to negotiate a deal. Ralls ended up signing for Cardiff City where he's since made over 250 appearances.

The DJ's set is tip top and includes Shed Seven and The Dandy Warhols. There is a rousing round of applause as the players take the knee for Black Lives Matter. There's a frantic start to the game with clear cut chances at both ends. The Dartford 14 jacket, Ade Azeez, is proving to be a handful and looks very comfortable at this level. He heads home a goal and sets up another for Robinson as the visitors take a two goal lead into the break.

Ms Moon returns from the kiosk with a tray of chips and some much-needed bottles of water. The Romans batter Dartford in the second half. They do everything but score as there are a string of saves and clearances off the line. Eventually they bag a well deserved goal with Alex Fletcher wriggling his way through the middle. They spurn so many chances in an exhilarating and breathtaking second half. 

The inevitable happens with 10 minutes remaining. Bath are caught on the break. A cross is turned into the back of the net by an unmarked forward. Dartford run down the clock to make it 5 wins on the bounce.

Attendance: 1137 

Man of the Match: Private Godfrey from Dad's Army.