Nottingham Community 3-1 Rushcliffe FC

The Big Man drops me off outside The Embankment in 'North Bridgford.' He's on an 'airport run' so hasn't got time to hang about. I wander into the Dispensary and shout up a pint of Orsino, from the Newby Wyke Brewery, located in Grantham, Lincs.

There are a few stragglers left in the pub, from the early kick off at the world famous City Ground. My oh my, what a two an eight some folk are in, after the Tricky Trees 2-1 win over The Sheep. I get gassing to a couple of lads, who are slumped in leather-covered armchairs in the corner of the pub. One of them is incoherent. He makes his excuses and heads towards to the exit door. He's coaching Dunkirk Under 18s in the morning, up in Mansfield. I share a drink with the other guy ('Bolly') who has drank himself sober after a 12-hour session. Turns out he played for Hickling FC, in the Notts Amateur League, back in the 90s. Tony Mac, of this parish, was his manager and 'Barthez', another good mate of mine, was in the nets for them. Small world, eh?

It's Sunday morning and I feel bright and breezy. Ms Moon is off to do a spot of shopping and will be calling in on her elderly mother, who lives in West Bridgford. I love nothing more than to while away a couple of hours in a hostelry on a Sunday lunchtime. I have to earn it, though. I head up Carlton Hill and turn right onto Standhill Road, where Lincoln Green's The Brickyard sits on the corner of the street. I amble through a maze of  alleys and ginnels, that lead me up onto Porchester Road. I wander through Private Road in Mapperley Park, an affluent area of Nottingham. The average price of a house is a cool half a million pounds. Destination is Sherwood. More importantly Kraftwerks craft ale bar.

250 specialist craft ales from around the world are available for selection. I'm like a kid in a sweet shop. The guy who runs the bar is one cool dude. He knows his crafts and loves his music too. The Stone Roses Greatest Hits is on the dukey. I have a couple out of the taps from Black Iris Brewery, who are located in New Basford, Nottingham. I finish off with a Glasshouse brew that has overtones of honey and melon in it. With it being 8% abv it sends me to sleep in the taxi on the way home.

I've been coming down with the lurgy all day on Monday and still feel as rough as a badger's bottom on Tuesday. Forest have a rearranged fixture versus rock bottom Barnsley. I make the call at 6 p.m. that I'll go to the game. Ms Moon is none too impressed, calling me an idiot on several occasions.

I take my seat in B4, in the Peter Taylor Stand, half an hour before kick off. The DJ needs to raise his game as he blasts out the exact same playlist from previous games versus Luton and Sheff Utd. He could take a lesson or two from The Pies DJ across the water. It was some set he played a few weeks back when Wrexham were in town.

Forest start the game sloppily, giving the ball away cheaply. Barnsley's threadbare team almost snatch the lead when a shot flashes narrowly wide of Brice Samba's right-hand post. U Reds respond to the rallying cry from 'A' Block. Aston Villa on loan striker, Keinan Davis, picks the pocket of a Tykes defender to put them ahead. Ryan Yates, arriving late, like Bryan Robson used to, makes it 2-0 shortly before the break.

I spend the second half in the company of NFFC diehard Jitz Jani. He's enjoyed a few pre-match jars at the Larwood and Voce and has partaken in a prawn curry rather than a 'prawn sandwich.' Steve Cooper won't be happy with the second half display. The highly sought-after 20 year-old, Brennan Johnson, puts the game to bed after a powerful run down the right-hand flank by the athletic Djed Spence.

I have to knock off from work early on Wednesday. This bloomin' virus has finally beaten me. I retreat to bed and don't re-surface until 11 a.m. on Thursday morning, returning to work asap as the world of software never sits still.

I'm cheered up by the delivery of a couple of books by Postman Pat. 30-Minute Suppers from the BBC Good Food Guide will be a midweek ratings winner at Chez Sticky's. I will also be able to relax in the armchair and thumb my way through 'Four Iron in the Soul' by Lawrence Donegan. It's about a former member of Scottish indie bands The Bluebells and Lloyd Cole, who abandons the music scene to become a golf caddy for a pro on the European Golf Tour. Thanks for the tip Adrian, I look forward to reading it.

It's the last Friday in the month, which can only mean one thing: Tony Mac's Real Ale and Craft Ale Tours. Destination today is England's second biggest city, Birmingham. I'm first up in our house and like a kid on Christmas Day morning, despite my runny nose and hacking cough. Mac and I have breakfast at YOLK in Hockley before hooking up with 'Mad Dog' at Nottingham Railway Station. Coops is a late withdrawal.

We've 14x pubs to cram in and only a 9-hour window, with a lot of walking in between too. Birmingham is an impressive city with a mixture of modern, Victorian and Edwardian architecture. We rattle around the pubs in the vicinity of New Street before heading out into the suburbs. We enjoy tapas at an Indian craft ale bar and some strong crafts at Burning Soul and Dig Brew. We make the last direct train home with minutes to spare. The night is finished off with a couple of swift ones at Beer Head Z.

There's no trace of a hangover on Saturday morning as Sticky Palms Cleaning Services spring into action. Again, I was going to watch Bestwood, but I've heard, on the grapevine, that they've a few missing and the fixture doesn't look all that attractive (finished 0-0 lol).

I surf the Nottinghamshire Senior League website. Let's not forget folks, it's the 'Best League in the World.' Crowd favourites, Nottingham Community FC, are at home versus Rushcliffe, a team who I've never seen play before. There's one slight problem as there is 'Bob Hope' of getting a bus down there as the ground is below the Nottingham version of the Spaghetti Junction. Ms Moon hasn't seen out her four-match ban, following a hissy fit at Netherfield, a few weeks back. Beggars can't be choosers.

We jump in the 'Rolls Royce' after an award-winning Tesco Finest Prawns, rocket and homemade Marie Rose sauce sandwich. Stick that in your restaurant, you loudmouth Ramsay. Paul Gambacinni's Pick of the Pops from 1989 won't be on long today as it's only a short trip. It's a godsend, to be honest, as the music is woeful. Gambers plays Mike and the Mechanics 'Living Years'. It's a particularly sombre song that becomes even sadder when Ms Moon belts out the chorus in a high pitched chord. I'll be back at that hearing specialist, in West Bridgford next week, to make sure I haven't got a perforated ear drum or any lasting damage.

We're going to meet Adrian down at the Dave Eastwood Sports Ground. He's really embracing the groundhopping culture after last week's debut up at Trafford FC. So much so, that today he's even brought a flask of coffee with him. Naeem Rashid, Community's secretary is one of my favourite characters on the NSL circuit. His face lights up when he sees me approaching him. He asks for a photo with Ms Moon despite me pointing out that she deserted us both, in Nottingham Community's hour of need, when they were trailing Netherfield 1-0 a few weeks ago.

The big news from Naeem is that star man 'Kante' is not back from holiday in Ghana, so not available for selection. The blustery conditions spoil the first half. We have some great craic and once again I get to meet some new people who are in it for the love of the game. A Rushcliffe unfortunate own goal, off the keeper's back, separates the teams at half-time.'McKlopp', the Community manager, is prowling the touchline, barking out instructions. 'The Meadows Pirlo' Ryan Perkins is on the injury list (man flu he later tells me) and can only make the sub's bench. It's blowing a gale as the fag end of Storm Malik nears. Community kick with the wind at their backs. 

Adrian and I shoot across to the cafe, just after the break, to grab some much-needed chocolate bars. I have a Toffee Crisp and Ms Moon a Kit Kat - thanks Adrian. Rushcliffe restore parity following a faux pas by the Community 'keeper, bless him. Two late goals see Community over the line. I'm so chuffed for them all. Special mention to Rushcliffe for their contribution as they played the game in a terrific spirit. They are in the notebook for a visit some time soon.

Man of the Match: Community 10 Jacket ('Bubba')

Attendance: 21

Trafford FC 0-1 City of Liverpool

It's Sunday morning. I roll out of bed at 8.30 a.m. I shower up and have a shave. I run down the stairs and head into the kitchen. I flick the kettle on as I need a strong Nescafe Alta Rica coffee - on offer at £3 a jar at Netherfield Co-op. I'd hurry up, as Ms Moon and I have mopped up.

I beat a couple of eggs in a Pyrex jug, add a knob of butter, a tablespoon of milk and some salt and pepper. I power up the microwave as I haven't time to put it in a pan on the hob. I wolf down my scrambled egg on toast before sliding open the French window door and scurrying down the passageway in the direction of Carlton Road. I hop on and hop off the No.26 bus, alighting opposite the Motorpoint Arena. 

The skies are clear blue and the sun shimmers off the canal still waters, as I stroll up the towpath.   Anglers dangle their poles and rods into the water, hoping and praying that they catch a whopper of a carp, that lurk in the reeds beneath the surface.

I catch up with Dafty, one of my best friends. He's brought his close companion, Mabel, an 18 month old black Labrador. We wander up the Trent towards Wilford Suspension Bridge. A tram rattles by, heading towards the Meadows and the city of Nottingham. We continue our stroll up Victoria Embankment, over Trent Bridge and past the world-famous City Ground. There will be some sore heads this morning, following a dramatic added time winner for the Tricky Trees by the 'Sniffer' Lewis Grabban, against his old club Millwall, at the New Den.

We pass Holme Road, where Notts County train these days. The Magpies are in a rich vein of form. I'm looking forward to watching them on Friday evening versus Barnet. It's a tribute night to the late, great local radio commentator, Colin Slater, who passed away last week. Neil Warnock is travelling up from his Cornwall home to pay his respects.

I say cheerio to Dafty, on The Avenue, a strip that is stacked out with chain restaurants that lack any character or imagination. I take a left turn onto Stratford Road, where one of Nottinghamshire County Cricket Club's finest ever captains lived at house No.246. How do I know that C.E.B Rice lived there? Because it was listed in the Notts phone directory.

It's just gone midday and my thirst needs quenching after that cheeky 6 mile walk. I open the door of the Stratford Haven, a Castle Rock real ale and craft ale back street boozer. I sink a few ales and catch up with an old schoolmate 'Tich Colman' who has a season ticket in here. As chance would have it Ms Moon is in the vicinity. The skies are slate grey and rain is falling, a few hours later, when the disgraced groundhopper (4 match ban) very kindly picks me up.

There's no midweek football action again for Sticky. I suffer in silence as Cain Dingle throws his weight about on Emmerdale Farm. He'll probably win the TV Times award for skulking, sulking and threatening folk - the Mitchell brothers won't be happy.

Another episode of 'Celebrity' Coach Trip tips me over the edge and puts me on the brink of phoning up the Samaritans. I seek refuge upstairs, listening to wonderful anecdotes from former Manchester United goalkeeper Peter Schmeichel and the BBC Pointless question master, Richard Osman, who are guests on Radio 4's Desert Island Discs. The only other highlight to report this week is that I had tea with my two lads 'The Keyworth Georgie Best' and 'Our Joe.' We dined at the Waterside Bar on Trent Bridge - the artist formally known as Southbank Bar.

It's midday on Friday and I'm buzzing for the weekend. I get a message off Tony Mac to say he'll meet me for a swift drink in Junkyard at 5 p.m. That's a bit odd as he was meant to be looking after his daughter, as his wife, Jo, works at Notts County. A quick check of twitter confirms the game is OFF as Barnet can't field a side, due to you know what and injuries. I blow a gasket and shout out a stream of obscenities.

It's the usual drill on Friday evening, despite me still chewing on a brick, thanks to the incompetency of those Herberts at the National League. I'm consoled by North Brew, Leeds, who have a tap takeover at Junkyard, We're holed up in there for 90 minutes before the usual rat run of Bunkers Hill, Fox and Grapes, Partizan Tavern and crowd favourite 'The Rap Tap', who have a couple of killer craft ales on. I'm ashamed to say it's a small doner meat and chips for the second consecutive week.

You can hear a pin drop at Chez Palms on Saturday morning. I'm on my lonesome. Ms Moon, and daughter Becky, are in my old ends, in Lincoln, on a girly night. I stroll down Hockley. Nottingham is a hive of activity and it's only 9 a.m. Forest v The Sheep is a 12.30 p.m kick off. I hope Rams supporters remember to wipe their feet when they cross the cattle grid before entering the 'Queen of the Midlands.'

I enjoy breakfast at an independent cafe called YOLK on Goose Gate. The guy who runs it is such a friendly chap, and he plays cool music on a Spotify playlist. It's carnage in town. The queues at 'Spoons, Pop World and Lloyds stretch longer than they would do in an evening. Everyone wants to be there when U Reds hammer the final nail in D***y Clownty's coffin. 

The Number 1 bus drops me off at Trent Bridge. Match day traffic is already building up on another gorgeous day. I've agreed to meet the 'Big Man' in the Ferry Inn car park, on the banks of the Trent, in the village of Wilford, Sat Nav is sending us down the A50 so it will save him some time. I phone him up, as his close neighbour, Trumpy Bolton, (once of this parish) knocks on his door. There's some bleating that he hasn't been invited, so we pencil Feb 12th into our diaries for a trip to the north east.

Adrian is making his groundhopping debut today. I met him in Tenerife for the first time at Christmas. His property is situated in a gated community with grounds bigger than Home Farm Estate, in Emmerdale. He's fully integrated himself into the groundhopping fraternity. He has a rucksack and has made his own sandwiches. Sadly they are wrapped in tin foil and not packed into a Tupperware container, like proper hoppers do. 

The Big Man must have played Grand Theft Auto 5 on Friday evening as he smokes off a number of 'weekend drivers' on the A50 towards Stoke. A pale-faced 'The Taxman' was so shocked by a 'Death Ride' to Hednesford, Staffs, back in 2009, that he announced, after, that he wouldn't set foot in the 'Big Man's' car ever again. True to his word, he hasn't. 

We roll into the Trafford FC car park with two hours spare, after a couple of Wacky Races moments on the M6. Adrian is already tucking into his tuna sandwiches. The plan was to go for a walk in a nearby park. This was until we chanced upon the Bird I'th Hand Pub, which I'd been tipped off about by the Trafford FC Supporters Club on twitter. I'm disappointed that it claims to be Cask Marque and yet has no real ales on draught. I settle for a couple of pints of Guinness.

The Big Man is watching NFFC v The Sheep on his phone. He fails to notice that Forest are 1-0 up until the 75th minute (they scored in the 49th minute). Brennan Johnson puts the game to bed on 82 minutes. 

Trafford FC were founded in 1990  and play their football at the Shawe View Stadium, in Urmston. Famous people to come from the area include: weather presenter Suzanne Charlton (daughter of Bobby), entertainer and actor Matthew Kelly, Open All Hours actress Lynda Baron and the former Manchester City footballers David White and Michael Johnson.

It's a very reasonable £8 on the gate. The ground is tree-lined and has character. Everyone is dead friendly. I buy a programme for a couple of quid and we all have a punt on a golden goal ticket. Adrian heads straight to the food bar to grab a cheeseburger. We stand on the far side of the ground, where the touchline is nearer, as my eyesight isn't the best these days.

The Trafford 6 jacket makes an impressive start. He's a proper old-fashioned defender who heads and kicks it. I strike up a conversation with his Scouse father, who is passionate about the game. He calls his lad 'Dope on a Rope.' or  'soft lad.'

It's a lively enough start but soon turns into mediocrity. Trafford, for all their efforts, can't string two passes together in the opposition's half. City of Liverpool, on the other hand, look sharper and full of ideas. Their Number 10 glides across the surface, as well as having a deft touch and footballing brain. They should be three to the good at the break, had it not been for stoic defending and bodies thrown on the line by Trafford's defenders.

The volunteers in the tea bar are different class. An army of staff are well drilled. Queues are dealt with swiftly. I graze on a hot dog as Adrian gnaws his way through a Kit Kat bar. The game looks destined for a 0-0 draw, a score I can't abide. Thankfully the visitors convert a penalty and could easily have added to their tally on another day. Trafford, on the other hand, barely fashion a chance. Great club though.

Attendance: 432

Man of the Match: 10 Jacket for City of Liverpool

FC Geordie 3-5 Ruddington Village

I should be buzzing after watching a five-goal thriller, down my ends, at the Richard Herrod Centre. But the waters have been muddied, and my enthusiasm dampened, by a blatant breach of Groundhopping Laws, after 45 minutes of a wonderful game of ball, played out on a cabbage patch field. Let me recap folks. Ms Moon made the schoolgirl error in only wearing three layers of clothing, during a bitterly cold spell of weather. She had a strop when I suggested it would be for the best if she wore her walking boots and double socks, as the terrain would be tricky to negotiate (it's bloody hilly in Carlton). Guess what? At half time she had a diva fit on par with Charity off Emmerdale Farm, announcing that it would be a no show from her in the second half of a game that you couldn't take your eyes off. The Princess was shivering cold and couldn't feel her toes.

The events take place in front of a capacity crowd of 30 people. How can I explain this to Naeem and all the good folk from Netherfield and Nottingham Community? The shame and embarrassment of it all. Who has ever left a game at half-time? Apart from some fans of Nottingham Forest who streamed out of The City Ground, a few seasons back, when they were 0-4 down to Sheffield Wednesday on Sabri Lamouchi's watch.

After the match I drop my 'golfing' umbrella off at our crib. Ms Moon is nice and toasty on the sofa watching her 937th episode of Four in Bed. There's no glances in either direction or dialogue exchanged. I'm fuming folks. I use it as an excuse to jump on the No.27 bus that heads to the bottom of Sneinton. I neck a few strong imperial pastry stouts at Neon Raptor, as the football results roll in.

I leave Ms Moon sprawled out on the sofa for the rest of the evening, watching crap quizzes hosted by Ant 'n Dec and Danny Dyer, as I sweat over a hot stove, knocking up an award-winning chicken biryani from the Gordon Ramsay 'Quick and Delicious' cookery book. The curry is eaten, in the words of Simon and Garfunkel, to 'The Sound of Silence.'

Sunday 9th January. It's announced over text (from Lillie Langtry's, I'm holed-up in there) that the Groundhopping Police will be holding an emergency court case on Monday evening at 7 p.m. There is an appeal from the defendant that Emmerdale Farm is on at this time, This is laughed out of court by the Judge (me). Sunday is a good day all-round. Sticky junior banged in 4x goals for his Sunday team - still having time for a duty free ciggie at half-time that I brought  him back from 'The Reef and U Reds saw off those 'Southern Softies' from 'The Arsenal.' That cross from Ryan Yates, eh? Watched it about 20x times.

Monday 7 p.m. The hearing is long and drawn out. Evidence is brought to the stand that Ms Moon has previous for hotfooting it at half-time. In Jan 2018, during a snowstorm at Radford FC, in arctic conditions, a similar situation was played out. It resulted in Sticky Palms walking home on his tod, back to Colwick, through the dimly lit streets of Radford, via the city centre. Luckily for me I was met with warmth, sympathy and scoops by Mr and Mrs Trumpy Bolton at the Barley Twist on Carrington Street

I walk into the room wearing a black cap (I'm judge and jury). It's announced that Ms Moon is to serve a four-match ban starting from Sunday Jan 16th. It would have been the 15th but I need a lift to Calverton for footy, and Morrisons at Netherfield after, as I'm making homemade fish fingers. 

There's no midweek football fix for Sticky Palms. I have to find another source of entertainment. I make sure I go for a three mile walk each night around the streets of Carlton. It's good for the mind and soul. I've also started to fill out a diary entry at the end of each day, which I hope will lead to bigger things as the year progresses.

I lie in the bath on Tuesday evening, soaking up the suds whilst listening to a croaky Charlie Slater commentate for Radio Nottingham at Kings Lynn v Notts County. Yesterday was a sombre and sad day for the club and its supporters. It was announced, in the early evening, of the passing of legendary local radio commentator Colin Slater MBE. He was my all-time ever favourite radio broadcaster. His passion and love for the Pies always came over brilliantly when he was 'Down the Lane.' I will go to the Barnet game \a week on Friday to pay my respects.

Notts respond well to going behind, storming back to win 4-2, with the highly sought after Geordie, Cal Roberts bagging a hat-trick. There's even bigger news coming in from the Stadium of Light in Sunderland. 'The Lincoln' have battered the Mackems 3-1 (should have been more). To add insult to injury, Chris Maguire has too scored a hat trick. One of his celebrations is in the face of Sunderland manager Lee 'Little Man Syndrome' Johnson, who released him on a free transfer in the summer.

It's Friday teatime and the end of the first five day working week (from my bedroom). With COVID cases soaring I've steered clear of the office, as I still can't drive, and don't fancy chancing it, catching four packed-out buses a day to Ruddington and back.

I don't mind jumping on one into town though ... lol. I meet blog legend Tony Mac in Junkyard, the coolest bar in Nottingham, or is it?? It's the first 'Friday Club' hook up of the year. We need to discuss the itinerary for the Birmingham all-dayer on Jan 28th. We while away two hours in the first bar, sampling a Cloudwater tap takeover.

The night continues as we drop down into Hockley, an area recently voted as the coolest postcode in the U.K. by none other than The Times. Jam Cafe is our usual haunt; it actually gets a mention in The Times article. I have a Norwegian craft ale and follow it up with a can from the Pressure Drop stable; a brewery situated in Tottenham, north London. After a rattle around Sneinton I'm 'Hank Marvin.' I swing by the Carlton Fryer for a lamb kebab and a small portion of chips - I'm an athlete folks.

It's Saturday morning. I've drank two pints of water throughout the night after eating that bloody salty kebab. It went down like Kruger Champagne at the time, as my thirst needed quenching. We have a lazy morning. The plan, originally, was to go and watch Bestwood Colliery v Rushcliffe. The fixture has been switched to a playing field in Clifton; it's not really a ground is it?

I clocked a fixture on the superb Notts Senior League website. FC Geordie, based in Calverton, are playing Ruddington Village. Calverton is a village close to my heart as I 'worked' at the pit for over ten years in the 80s and 90s. The game is confirmed as ON. 

I've watched a interesting passage of play from the Test match (Ashes) in Australia. England are in a decent position at close of play in the dead rubber. Ms Moon is now in charge of the flicker. She stumbles across the 1971 comedy film On the Buses. I can't believe they still show these films in this day and age. The male chauvinism is cringeworthy. Inspector Blakey is well funny though and always down on his luck.

We depart 'Chez Palms' at 1.30 p.m. It's good to hear 'Gambers' on Radio 2s Pick of the Pops. He plays 'One Nation Under the Groove' by Funkadelic from 1979. It has one of the greatest starts you'll ever hear on a record; only bettered by Joy Division's Dead Souls. 

Ms Moon makes a right hand turn down Collyer Road, opposite to where the pit once stood. It was closed in 1999. It was a time in my life (1988-1999) when I couldn't wait to get to work. The banter was on a different level to anything else I've ever experienced - like gallows humour.

We park up at William Lee Memorial Park. FC Geordie are already waiting to kick off. It's 2.03 p.m. when the referee blows his whistle to start the game, due to Ruddington not emerging from the changing rooms until late on - one of their players arrived later than us. Groundhopping Police don't do late kick offs.

FC Geordie score a cracking goal on 7 minutes. A ball is fired in from the left hand side and is headed home. It's a lovely moment as we are stood next to the grandparents of the goalscorer. Geordie pay the price for missed chances. Ruddington are ruthless in the final third. They are 4-1 up at the break.

There's loads of effing and jeffing coming from the sidelines. Apologies to everyone, but Ms Moon is hankering for her coffee fix. With a four match ban imminent she chances her arm and drives down to the village. She returns with a couple of polysteyrene cups filled to the brim with 200 Degrees coffee.

FC Geordie peg a goal back, but continue to spurn chances. Ruddington put the game to bed with a fifth goal late on. The home team respond immediately, but hap hazard defending ultimately costs them the game.

Attendance: Head count 39

Man of the Match: Colin Slater MBE. Rest in Peace.

Netherfield Seniors 3-2 Nottingham Community

It's 2 a.m. on Tuesday 21st December. The alarm on my phone is ringing out. A bleary-eyed Sticky Palms sleep walks to the bathroom for a shower and a shave. Our regular taxi driver arrives at 2.40 a.m. on the dot. It's a long story folks. In a nutshell, it's our first holiday abroad in nearly two years. We've both been lying low and self-isolating for the last 10 days in an effort to avoid COVID.

Our flight leaves Birmingham Airport bang on time. We've already hoovered up a large 'Spoons breakfast - not the sort blog drinking legend Trumpy Bolton dreams of. On arrival in the resort of Los Cristianos, in Tenerife, we are greeted with heavy rain showers. I sit in Harriet's English Tea Rooms, glum-faced, watching the rain teeming down. Within an hour the skies clear and the sun peeps out. We finish the evening enjoying the sunset on the front at Playa de las Americas, at our favourite bar, Royal Palace, as surfers ride the waves of the Atlantic Ocean.

What a holiday we have. We spend Christmas Day on a 12 hour bender in the Queen Victoria with one of my closest friends, David Bishop ('The Big Man'). We are joined too by John, Adrian and Marie. The Big Man's Christmas lunch is polished off in the blink of an eye. There's a steward's enquiry over the state of the cheesecake. The chef makes an appearance and an apology too.

Most of the holiday is either spent by the pool, walking into the resort or sampling local craft ales at a cool bar Ms Moon sniffed out, a five minute walk from our apartments. The only time we really venture out of the resort is when we visit Golf del Sur where the Spanish Golf Open is often held.

We land back on terra firma on Dec 28th, Tuesday teatime. There's a nervous two day wait before negative PCR test results are returned by email. It means I have the green light to begin a weekend footballing bonanza after a 26 day lay-off. I put the two days in isolation to good use by listening to the entire back catalogue of Manchester band New Order.

Carlton Town's Northern Premier East League fixture versus Daventry Town is first on the agenda. I hook up with anti-BREXIT campaigner and diehard Tricky Tree, Jitz Jani. We share a couple of pints of Guinness and watch a breathtaking game of ball with The Millers edging home, with a 3-2 win, courtesy of a Tyler Blake goal.

It's Sunday morning and day two of a footballing frenzy. High-flying, big time Charlies, Wrexham AFC are in town. The club have had to play behind closed doors at The Racecourse Ground due to COVID restrictions put in place by First Minister of Wales, Mark Drakeford. Near on 2000 fans are expected to travel from North Wales. The club are in the spotlight due to being joint-owned by Hollywood actor Ryan Reynolds - to be honest I've never heard of him.

I take my usual seat in the Derek Pavis Stand, adjacent to the Directors' box. The season has been a little stop start for the Magpies. But they play a beautiful game, are easy on the eye and their form at home is solid.

There's an extraordinary start to the match. Wrexham take the lead with a shot the speed of an exocet missile, from 25 yards out. U Pies come storming back. They convert a penalty on 8 minutes, with a guilty Dragons' defender sent off for deliberate handball. Wootton scores another goal to put them ahead.

The game-changing moment is early in the second half. Wrexham are awarded a penalty which is beaten away by Pies' on loan 'keeper Anthony Patterson. Notts storm forward, raiding down the Wrexham left hand side. The brilliant Jayden Richardson, a Meadows lad, on loan from Forest, controversially heads home the winner. It's without doubt the best game of football I've had the pleasure of watching this season, despite the tantrums and moaning of Wrexham manager Phil Parkinson. Notts have passed the Red Dragons off the park.

Monday 3rd January. Carlton is treated to sun-kissed clear blue skies. I walk down Carlton Hill, through Sneinton (without a glance at Neon Raptor Tap Room,) and up onto London Road. Sticky junior picks me up in County Hall car park and drops me off outside Clifton All Whites ground, another club very close to my heart, as is their ex-manager James 'Tosh' Turner. I love Tosh to bits and was so sorry to hear of his father's recent passing. He takes the rise out of my dodgy eye, following recent operations.

The Boatmen of Dunkirk are today's visitors - never an easy team to play against at the best of times. Clifton have finally invested in youth, something Dunkirk have relied on for an age. I chat to a couple of groundhoppers, and also bump into a parent of a lad who plays for Basford United - a team that are dropping like a stone down the Northern Premier League.

It's a feisty encounter. Dunkirk are off the boil, firing blanks and looking there for the taking. The young guns of Clifton lose their cool. A lad I rated highly at Burton Joyce, and who I tipped Tosh off about, is sent off the field of play, after an act of petulance. Dunkirk take the lead shortly before the break.

I watch the second half with a good mate of mine called 'Barthez.' Hopefully he'll be in Tenerife with his partner Donna at the same time Ms Moon and I are, in mid March. Ten-man Clifton are back on level terms, scoring a rebound from a fluffed spot kick. They are then reduced to nine men which ultimately costs them the game when a ruthless Dunkirk snatch a late winner through Sam Harbottle, son of club legend, Dave.

It was meant to be four games in four days as I've been given the green light to return to watching Radford FC by manager Big Glenn Russell. I've served a 10 match ban (they won 9 of them) because every time I tip up at Selhurst Street they somehow get beat. It's freezing cold on Tuesday evening and there's a brilliant drama on ITV (can't say that too often) called Anne. It's about the tireless work of Hillsborough campaigner Anne Williams, whose part is brilliantly played by Sticky's favourite actress, Maxine Peake.

There's no Friday evening boozing with Tony Mac in 'the New Covent Garden' (Sneinton). We're resting up for a couple of weeks. I'm dispatched to Marks and Spencer Food Hall on Victoria Retail Park, in Netherfield. We settle in for the evening at Chez Palms. I sink a few bargain buy craft ales from Suds and Soda and enjoy a classic burger in a brioche bun with all the trimmings.

It's pouring with rain as I open the curtains on Saturday morning. I check the excellent Malcolm Storer's twitter account to see which games have fallen by the wayside. First choice today was going to be Linby Colliery Welfare, but it's been postponed due to a COVID outbreak.

Netherfield Seniors play at the Richard Herrod Centre, a 15 minute walk from ours. The club assure me that the game is on. Ms Moon says it isn't that cold outside. Her theory is based on drawing on a couple of fags in the 'smoking shelter' (back garden). I'm taking no chances and have got my Parka on and Stone Island beanie, in case there's any bother (lol ..).

Nottingham Community are today's visitors. It's a wonderful club that is based in the Meadows, an inner city area of Nottingham, where the likes of Jermaine Pennant and Wes Morgan grew up. There's a one minute silence, followed by applause, in the memory of Karl White, 'Mr Meadows', a legendary community leader who sadly passed away in December. All the visiting players are wearing black tops with the number 1 on and the word Legend - it's a lovely touch.

The Notts Senior League is one of my favourites. I coached my village team in this very league three seasons ago and thoroughly enjoyed it. There's not much doing in the first half. Netherfield are by far the better side but keep wasting chances. Community have not trained or played in the last three weeks. As a supporter says to me "we're still running off the pigs in blankets mate."

Netherfield finally beat the door down and take the lead. There is a serious breach of groundhopping rules at the break. Ms Moon announces she's too cold and is off home to watch the latest episode of Celebrity Coach Trip. It's a minimum three match ban with further repercussions expected when the 'Groundhopping Police' hold an emergency meeting on Monday evening during Emmerdale Farm.

The second half is why I love grassroots football so much. 'The Meadows Pirlo', Ryan Perkins, rallies the troops. They drive forward and level terms with a controversial equaliser. Netherfield pour forward too and win a penno that's converted. You can't take your eye off it (even my dodgy one). Community throw the kitchen sink at them, equalising again, causing wild celebrations in the 'away end.' Club secretary Naeem Rashid whoops with joy.

They let themselves down in added time. A player is sent off for shoving an opponent and 'Pirlo' is sin-binned for calling the ref a clown. With the clock running down, the Netherfield 10 jacket scores a banger on a playing surface that you could grow potatoes on.

What an afternoon out I've had, and all for FREE too. There's only one place to celebrate: The Rap Tap.

Attendance: 37

Rest in Peace, Karl White.