It's Monday morning and I'm alighting from the Ruddington 10 bus, at the top of Greythorn Drive, opposite an old people's complex, where once stood a mighty fine Shipstones watering hole called the South Notts Hussars. I cross the Lougborough Road towards Wilford Hill; it's a cemetery and crematorium.
I'm celebrity grave-hunting - well I thought I was. I had hoped that legendary Notts County goalkeeper Albert Iremonger might have been laid to rest here or another famous player of theirs, William Gunn, who also played cricket for Notts and England. Please let me know if you are aware of their final resting place.
Pedro Richards died in 2001, at the age of 45 years old, from a rare strain of pneumonia. He made 399 appearances for the Pies between 1974 and 1986. He was a County Roadside terrace favourite. I used to love his loping, easy stride runs down the right hand flank. I have to abort looking for his grave too, as it's akin to looking for a needle in a haystack. It's a shame, as I scouted his son, Jordan, when he was at Grantham Town, who later went on to make 12x first team appearances for Notts County.
I'm back down Meadow Lane on Tuesday evening. The Magpies are flying high at the top of the National League. Luke Williams, 42 yrs old, is their likeable and affable Head Coach. His interviews with BBC Radio Nottingham's Charlie Slater, pre-match and post match, are honest and insightful, in contrast to former manager Ian Burchnall, who looked startled, confused and often caught like a rabbit in the headlights.
The DJ raises the stakes in pre-match music down the lane when he plays 'Hard to Beat' by London indie band Hard-Fi. A very apt title you would have thought, but sadly Notts are below par for the final 25 minutes of the first half, despite taking a 1-0 lead through a fine strike by Adam Chicksen, after the Portuguese attacker Ruben Rodrigues had threaded the ball through an eye of an needle.
Bromley are excellent on the eye and well set up. They must be scratching their heads, Stan Laurel style, wondering how they have wasted so many chances. County are in debt to 'keeper Sam Slocombe for some fine saves and shot-blocking.
I notice, during the break, that The Right Honourable Lord Clarke of Nottingham (Kenneth Clarke), is sat behind me in the Directors' Box. A penny for his thoughts on the shit show of a shambles the Tory party find themselves in, right now.
Sat close by are the Reedtz brothers, the Danish owners of Notts County. I contacted one of them, Alexander, to tip them the wink, for their Football Radar business, on a player, and to forewarn them of him, as Coalville Town were drawn out of the hat to play the Pies in a FA Cup 4th qualifying tie. I got a reply to say thank you and how he hoped the player didn't play too well on the day. Well Alex, he set two up, so not bad, eh?
Bromley grab a deserved equaliser and scrap for their lives. I haven't the time to hear the moans, groans and general bellyaching of County fans on the referee's performance or Bromley's time-wasting tactics. What do you expect when you have won one game in the last six matches and you are playing the League leaders who have won seven on the spin? Six minutes added time was fair and square.
I rise early on Tuesday and meet Tony Mac at the award-winning Yolk, an independant cafe in a hipster part of town. The next three days have been planned with military precision due to expected train strikes. Ms Moon has granted me an extended day's holiday leave, meaning I'll miss the end of the road for the worst actor on the planet, Big Al off Emmerdale. If the train had gone through Leeds, I'd have shot him myself.
Mac and I check-in at our hotel - there are a huge amount of things to tick off in the town of Stockport, famous for its hat-making in the 19th century, when it exported six million hats per year. We have 15x pubs to tick off from out of the Heritage pub and CAMRA guide. Add to that, we have to hunt down a number of murals and blue plaques. The best pub on day one is Magnet, a former CAMRA Pub of the Year. It's so good we visited it twice, ending the night up there, as it's only a few minutes stroll away from the hotel.
Breakfast is spot on at Covent Garden Cafe. I give it a Google five star review. The chatty, friendly owner is well chuffed. We walk some serious miles to take in the Phil Foden and Danny Bergara murals. The Foden one is laugh out loud, with some folk saying it looks more like Ross Barkley. Bergara is a legend in the town and a former manager at Stockport County. They are raising funds to build a statue of the Uruguayan, who passed away in 2007, aged 65 yrs old.
We tick off the blue plaque on a house at 33, Carrington Road, where three-times Wimbledon Men's Singles Championship winner Fred Perry was born. He was also the first player to win a career Grand Slam, at the age of 26 yrs old. We swing by Edgeley Park, home to Stockport County and visit The Alexandra, a Heritage pub entry, before jumping on the train to Manchester.
Two nights are to be spent in the 'Big Manny.' Outside London, it's our favourite English city for watering holes. The architecture is stunning and the locals are savvy and proud of their City. After quaffing many a real ale at some of their fine establishments we end the evening sinking strong craft ales at the Cloudwater and Track taprooms, located on the Piccadilly Trading Estate. As Mac often says, drinking 8% DIPA crafts isn't a game for children.
I'm in trouble with Mac on Friday morning. Not only have I mucked up on Google Maps (I blame my bad eye) but also booked in for breakfast at some pretentious, vegetarian cafe - to be fair the scrambled eggs were warm and fluffy.
We bag a bargain £7 all-day tram ticket and head out towards the market town of Altrincham. First stop is close neighbour Timperley, which had a very famous resident. The creator of Frank Sidebottom was Chris Sieve. His alter ego was an entertainer with a papier-mache head, who often popped up on shows such as The Tube. He became somewhat of a cult hero. There's an incredibly sad documentary about 'Frank' on You Tube.
After admiring the Frank Sidebottom statue, on Timperley High Street, we decide to walk into Altrincham. There's an old market hall where everyone seems to congregate. It has a plethora of food outlets as well as some bars. We drink a few ales at Jack in the Box, a brewery tap from Manchester Blackjack beers. We're tipped off about a bar called Batch, located in a courtyard. We sink a few more crafts accompanied by a mighty fine cheesboard.
Manchester is revisited for the main event. Mac is treating me to a gig at Manchester Cathedral where The Afghan Whigs, a grunge rock band from Cincinatti, are playing. I stand open-mouthed gazing at the windows, ceilings and pillows in this Grade 1 listed Gothic building, that was built between 1421-1882. The gig ain't bad too, as I view side on, due to lighting affecting my damaged retina. We see the night off at Lass O'Gowrie - what a three days we've had. Thanks Mac.
It's 6.30 a.m. on Saturday morning. A bleary-eyed Sticky and Mac are trawling through the Trainline app to see if 'owt is running from Manc, as the strike has been called off last minute. No such luck folks. We grab a Greggs breakfast and board a National Express bus to Sheffield via Leeds. There's time for a beautiful pint from the Pentrich Brewery at the award-winning Sheffield Tap before the final leg of the journey home to Nottingham, by train.
I'm treating Ms Moon to an afternoon out in Radford, an inner city suburb of Nottingham. I've arranged for the good lady to pick me up in Lidl car park, in Sneinton, at 2.30 p.m. I've half an hour to kill, so I head down to the Fox and Grapes, to find it full of Forest and Brentford fans. I have half a pint of Side Spin, a Play Brew beer from Middlesbrough.
I'm reunited with Ms Moon after three days away - she loves it up at Raddy. One person who doesn't love me at Radford is Big Glenn Russell - his team rarely wins in my presence. The big 'un is all over Ms Moon like a rash. Charming her and complimenting her. "You need the George Cross for putting up with him" (me). I whisk her away before any more damage is inflicted, as Anita Ward's 1979 classic 'Ring My Bell' blasts out of the P.A system.
Radford are 2-0 up at the break, with the visitors still firmly in the game; a point I make clear to Big Glenn as he passes by, following a heated argument with the Bourne Town manager - they won't be sharing a bottle of Lambrini after the game, for sure.
We've spent the first half with our good friend Roberto, who is a tireless fundraiser for children's charities. His football team travels the county raising funds for those that need it. Recent efforts have been thwarted by the inclement weather. Radford don't heed any of the warning signs that have been there for all to see.
They are ripped apart, in a short space of time, by a flurry of goals. I ask my getaway driver (Ms Moon) to start the car. Big Glenn's baseball cap is removed and thrown to the floor as the fourth goal sees off any comeback.
Man of the Match: Tony Mac - only Ryan Yates has more energy.
Attendance: 92
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