Sheffield FC 0-0 Carlton Town

I've a spring in my step the day after the Notts Senior Cup upset in Mansfield. I whistle "We are the Millers, the mighty Millers", all the way down Listergate. It echoes around the empty buildings, in an area that was once vibrant. The blot on the landscape, an eyesore called Broad Marsh Shopping Centre, still hasn't been knocked down. Nottingham City Council's money jar is empty. The spiteful Tories made sure WE missed out on any 'levelling up' money. The Council haven't covered themselves in glory; a lot of the taxpayers money has been frittered away on disastrous investments in energy companies and propping up Nottingham Castle.

I have to say the new bus station is pretty damn smart. It's my mode of transport today. The rail lads and lasses are on strike again - good on 'em too. Up the Mick Lynch. Tony Mac and I board the National Express coach to Leicester; our second visit within four days.

Shouty, Teesside issues-based indie band, Benefits, are in town at Firebug. It'll be the fourth time we've seen them. They never, ever, disappoint. We tick off the Black Horse on Foxon Street, before heading miles out of town to check-in at a couple of craft ale bars in Stoneygate and Clarendon Park. It's an interesting walk that takes us close to the Leicester Rugby Club ground, on Welford Road, and the King Power Stadium, where there is a statue of former chairman, Khun Vichai Srivaddhanaprabha, who tragically died in a helicopter crash, close to this very spot.

It's 7 am, Saturday 4th February. Ms Moon and I are in a taxi: destination East Midlands Airport - well it's six weeks since I've been in Tenerife ..lol. The flight goes smoothly and we're all checked in by 3 p.m. CD Tenerife are at home up in Santa Cruz this evening, with CD Marino playing on Sunday lunchtime in nearby Playa de las Americas. I've given my word to Ms Moon that I won't be attending either game. 

It was so close to being a football-free holiday, but I couldn't resist joining Craig Farina and 'Dave' to watch Nottingham Forest v the 'Dirty Ones' at the Anchor Bar in Costa Adeje. After all, it is my 59th birthday. What a weekend it is too, with most of my favourite teams winning and none of them conceding a goal. I was particularly chuffed for Carlton Town, who won in Tadcaster, to end a wretched run of form.

Seven days fly by in the blink of an eye. We celebrate both our birthdays at two first-class eateries called Coeur De Filet and Restaurant Sebastian - thanks for the heads up Craig and Non League legend John Ramshaw. We're back at home for 8.30 pm on Saturday evening. It's just in time for Ms Moon to catch up with her rubbish TV schedule (Soaps) on ITV X. I'm washed out and turn in for an early night. 

It's nice to return to real ales; boy have I missed them. Sunday lunchtime is spent in the Sneinton Craft Ale Quarter. I enjoy a few scoops in the King Billy and Partizan Tavern before raiding the beer fridge at Neon Raptor for some take-outs. The Mansfield v Millers blog is well received, with over 1000 hits. It's lovely that folk still read 'em, as I've often thought of retiring this diary.

It's Monday evening and there's a bit of a set to in the Woolpack Inn between folk hero Cain Dingle and Kim Tate's fella, who is as thick as a slice of bread. They would have both been shown the door on Amos's and Mr Wilks's watch. A banning order would have been served with names added to the Pub Watch list. I give out a little yelp. "Ooh .... has Cain startled you darling? says Ms Moon, whose eyes are transfixed on the TV screen. I peer over my laptop screen, "it's better than that Love, I've just found out where Brian Clough is laid to rest.

It's Tuesday afternoon. I'm on the 2.15 p.m. train to Derby. The plan was to tick off a CAMRA pub called York Chambers in Long Eaton, have a potter around Derby and grab some tea before taking my seat in the West Stand with the bleating enemy. The mighty Lincoln City are the visitors at the 'Sheep Dip. A team I have supported for over 50 years.

The Clough resting place revelation, from last night, has turned my day on its head. It's the biggest celebrity grave I've visited since Sir Matt Busby in Southern Cemetery, Manchester. I make the short train journey to the picture postcard village of Duffield, in the Amber Valley district. I wander up the High Street before turning up Makeney Road. I climb a narrow path that leads me up into the churchyard. Brian Clough is laid to rest with his beloved wife Barbara. Today is Valentines Day. Fresh roses lay by the graveside.

I end up back in Derby with time to kill. I peg it across to the suburb of Normanton; an interesting part of the inner city. Falstaff Free House is tucked away in the back streets. I quaff a pint of pale ale before making the long trek to Pride Park.

Lincoln are unbeaten away, when I sit in the home end. It worked a treat at Barrow and Barnsley this season. I'm superstitious and keen for this trend to continue. I park my backside in the West Stand. 'The Lincoln' have brought 2,500 fans and they are making a right racket. The Imps are rapid on the counter-attack. They take the lead shortly before half-time. Sticky Palms is sat on his hands and unable to celebrate.

The DJ doesn't stick to the corporate script. There's no 'Freed From Desire' or 'Insomnia.' We're treated instead to Althea and Donna's 1978 Number One hit 'Uptown Top Ranking.' There's a gamechanger on 55 minutes when Lincoln's petulant striker, Ben House, is sent off for his second stupid tackle of the evening, after being mugged off by the impressive veteran striker David McGoldrick.

It's all hands to the pump and like the Alamo as the Rams camp inside our half. We can't quite hang on, but the defending has been heroic and resolute. We have the game's best player in Jack Diamond. He has ran 'the Sheep' ragged, turning them inside out. "Thank God he's gone off" says the bloke behind me. Remember his name; he'll be in Sunderland's first team next season. 

I'm back in Nottingham city centre on Thursday and Friday evening. I have a few scoops with Tony Mac and 'DJ Dan' in Junkyard before viewing indie band Pale Blue Eyes at The Bodega. 'Murph', Roger Wilson and the Horsburghs are all at the gig.

The following evening, I've some creeping to do, as I was AWOL for Valentines Day. Ms Moon and I enjoy a few drinks at Lillie Langtry's. We take a stroll up to Hockley and climb up the steps that lead us to Broadway Cinema. Armed with two bags of popcorn we watch a film that is up for 9x Academy awards, called Banshees of Inisherin. The film is set on a remote island on the west coast of Ireland. It's dark, bleak and not for the faint-hearted. We finish the evening up in the Fox and Grapes, in Sneinton. There's no room for a dirty kebab, that popcorn has done for both of us.

I'm out of the house by 10 am the following morning. It's my first proper away day with the 'Mighty Millers' as a gaggle of fans head towards the Derbyshire town of Dronfield, where the World's oldest existing football club, Sheffield FC, play their home games to the rear of the Coach and Horses pub.

There's another healthy turnout despite a poor run of form. First port of call is the Dronfield Arms. The beer scoreboard is tip top. I have a couple of pints of Wild Light from the Temper microbrewery, based in the town.

Our group is joined by 'Pat' a Sheffield FC stalwart. Gary Clarke gets a football card going in the bar. Pat, a Rangers fan, has to pick Celtic, much to his displeasure, as they are the only remaining team left on the card. Alan Murphy scratches off the winner. Blow me down it's Celtic. A huge roar goes up in the pub as a smiling Pat collects his winnings.

The pint of the day is Thornbridge's 'Jamestown' in the Coach and Horses.  We arrive in the ground shortly before kick off. The DJ adds to the atmosphere by playing 'Heavyweight Champion of the World' by Sheffield band 'Reverend and the Makers.

There's nothing much doing in an evenly matched contest until the Sheffield 'keeper inexplicably handles the ball miles outside of his area. With no sub 'keeper on the bench an outfield player bravely volunteers to go in the nets. Surely Carlton will take advantage. Incredibly it's Sheffield who come the closest to scoring when a 25 yard shot clatters against the crossbar.

The DJ continues his good form at half time by spinning a couple of Badly Drawn Boy tracks - I'm off to see him in a few weeks time at the Metronome in Nottingham. Carlton can't break down the hard-working 10 men of Sheffield. They lack any nous, craft or guile. The best route appears down the left hand flank which Hylton and Howes work well together. The strikers can't get on the end of a succession of crosses.

The fans are frustrated. It's two points dropped and feels like a loss. Fair play to Sheffield, they have toughed it out just like 'The Lincoln' did on Valentines in Derby. Every cloud has a silver lining. A late Chris Wood equaliser at The City Ground sees 'Boatsy' do a little jig of delight.

Man of the Match: Niall Hylton

Attendance: 354