I've had a cracking afternoon out at the Wollaton Sports Association, as I continue my tour of Nottinghamshire Non-League football grounds by bus. I catch the No.30 back into town, stepping off outside Victoria Centre shops. I spot a stationary Carlton 27 bus and decide to make a run for it. It drops me bang outside Neon Raptor craft ale bar that's situated inside Sneinton Market.
There's a hum and din about the place as I order up a few DIPAs (Double Indian Pale Ales) off the beer menu. I finish off with 1/3 of a pint of Cabinets Have Future Ghosts, a double chocolate and marshmallow 13% abv imperial stout. Bus number five of the day sees me home early evening. I rustle up meatballs and spaghetti for supper whilst Ms Moon is gripped by the latest episode of Strictly Comes Dancing.
I pop down the Partizan Tavern, Sunday lunchtime, for a few sociable ones. Big Steve, the landlord, is always good for a few real ale and craft ale tips. I settle in for the afternoon, typing up the Wollo v Keyworth blog, which is well received. I make a donation to the club as I hadn't any cash at the turnstile on arrival or at the tea bar at half time.
It's Tuesday evening and I'm stood at the bus stop outside Carlton Tesco. The weather is mild for this time of year. I'm taking no chances though and have pulled my trusty Parka from out of the cupboard for its first airing of the season.
I alight the bus on Mapperley Tops. It's not only the first visit of the season to Gedling Miners' Welfare but also Plains Fish Bar's seasonal debut. I mark my chippy tea with seven marks out of ten. The tournament leader is Oceans on Carlton Road, a stone's throw away from Chez Palms.
I wash my tea down with a bottle of apple juice and break into a Cadbury's dairy milk bar of chocolate. It's £5 on the turnstile at Gedling's Plains Road ground. The stadium is only lit up by the floodlights on the far side of the ground. I've got to have my wits about me as I do a couple of laps of the ground as my dodgy 'mince pies' aren't in great working order at night.
I step inside the clubhouse to kill a bit of time. I'm met by a verbal volley from a chortling Big Glenn Russell, manager at Radford FC, a club I'm banned from because they lose every time I attend a game. It's no coincidence that The Pheasants have won seven consecutive League fixtures since my 'banning order' commenced.
Big Glenn's sidekick, 'Shoey', is with him. They rip the piss out of me prior to the match beginning. Glenn spends more time on the phone than Barry Fry in the first half, wheeling and dealing. He's looking to get a new player added to the squad for the weekend clash with Hinckley AFC who have won 9x games on the bounce.
The game we're watching is scrappy and devoid of any quality. I'm a big fan of Harrowby Utd striker Danny Durkin, who I clocked playing for the Lincolnshire club four years ago. He's having a quiet night on the field of play. The visitors take the lead on the stroke of half time. Big Glenn misses the goal as he's got wind of burgers and onions frying in a pan - sadly it's from a nearby takeaway and not the Club food bar.
Gedling deservedly equalise in the second half but can't force home the winner. Incredibly Harrowby grab all three points with a last gasp strike from my man Durkin.
I'm back in Nottingham city centre at 1 p.m. on Friday lunchtime. One of my workmates resigned from his post the other week. He shares a passion for ales. I manage to snuck into a barbers on Upper Parliament Street. 72 year-old 'Steve the Barber' gives Sticky a fresh look. I peg it up Derby Road. I meet up with Charlie in The Sir John Borlase Warren, where we both enjoy a pint of Archer from the Lincoln Green stable. We swing by the recently re-opened Hand and Heart, but the beer fails to hit the spot.
'Bar of the Day' is The Barrel Drop which is down a narrow passageway called Hurts Yard. The beer menu is to die for. I go big too early (memories of Lincoln and Newark, last Friday, come flooding back). I can't resist a barrel-aged bourbon stout from the Bang the Elephant brewery up in Langley Mill. It's the start of my downfall. My last recollection is Tony Mac buying two Montague and Capulet (Romeo and Juliet reference) DIPA's in Neon Raptor.
It's Saturday, 9.30 a.m. I troop down the stairs and sink into my armchair. Ms Moon asks me when I'm going to grow up? "When I'm 58 years old in February", I reply. The good lady packs her bag for a weekend away (hen night) in Stratford-upon-Avon. I slog it up Carlton Hill, worse for wear, towards Albie's where I'm hoping to recover with some breakfast.
I enjoy an Americano and a piping hot full English as 'Fluorescent Adolescent' by the Arctic Monkeys is played on the iPod shuffle. I walk off breakfast down Standhill Road and Foxhill Road before calling by Tesco where I pick up a few bits and bobs as I'm cooking for my one this evening.
I soak in the bath listening to Five Live Sport. I head back out of the door and walk up Burton Road, past the re-named Beacon Hill (previous guise Blacks Head) and the wonderful Old Volunteer, I stroll down Stoke Lane. I can hear the dulcet tones of Morrissey singing What Difference Does it Make, as I part with £9 on the turnstile.
The ground is already bustling with folk who are looking forward to this FA Trophy tie versus Stourbridge, from near Dudley, who play in the League above. I strike up a conversation with Martin Ball's Dad, who's stood adjacent to the tunnel. I mention that the Millers could take advantage of the visitors missing a couple of players. Reece Styche is in Gibraltar's squad for tonight's World Cup qualifying tie in Turkey. I tell Bally's Dad that one of my favourite strikers, Jason Cowley, is also absent. 'That's me", shouts a guy loitering in the tunnel area.
Jason is a lovely guy who got given a chance at Stevenage a few seasons ago. Sadly, COVID killed any chance of progress. I wish him good luck in his rehabilitation from nerve damage to his spine. Cowley was released by Aston Villa at 16-years-old. He was in the same age group as Jack Grealish.
Forest die-hard, Jitz Jani, is stuck in traffic close to Notts County's Meadow Lane ground. Notts are attempting to break the National League attendance record against Solihull Moors today. The crowd of 271 supporters join the players and officials in remembering the loss of our armed forces.
Stourbridge look sharper than the Millers, allowing them little time on the ball. The passing is crisp and with purpose. Carlton ease themselves into the game. A plethora of Forest lads have rocked up. Gary 'Boatsy' Clarke has been relentless with his fundraising for the club. I also meet 'Blackie' and 'Toppo.' Some of us are booked in for four nights away in Amsterdam, in June next year, when England play the Netherlands at cricket. Twice European Cup winning captain, John McGovern, is today's guest of honour.
Carlton start to enjoy a good spell of pressure and take the lead on 41 minutes through their impressive talisman Aaron Opoku. Some of the lads are potting pints for fun as the bar continues to do a roaring trade. There's a fantastic vibe and feel about the place. Everyone appears to be enjoying the occasion.
Stourbridge dampen our spirits, shortly after the break, when a far post cross is nodded home by former Notts County and Grimsby Town striker Montel Gibson. The game has a magnificent ebb and flow to it. It has a proper cup tie feel as the tackles fly in and yellow cards are dished out.
As legs begin to tire and the clock runs down, penalties appear to be on the horizon. The visitors break the Millers hearts with a close-range finish. Carlton bounce back only to see a Howes effort smack against the crossbar and bounce to safety.
The final whistle is blown as this epic cup tie reaches its conclusion. I'm gutted for the Millers players, staff and supporters, but what a smashing game of football was played.
Attendance: 271
Man of the Match: Lee Vaughan 2 jacket for Stourbridge
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