I traipse back into the clubhouse after yet another (seven consecutive) home defeat, this time to Hebburn Town, from north east England. Whilst their team laugh and joke, as they tuck into hospitality food laid on by the Club, supporters of the Millers sit with expressions of dismay and disbelief.
'DJ Murph' tries to lighten the mood by doing the 150 Club draw at our table. 'Heaven Knows I'm Miserable' by The Smiths would be very apt right now. The gloom is temporarily lifted when I pull manager Tommy Brookbanks' number from out of the Tupperware box. Mine's a bottle of Harvest Pale ale the next time I see you Tommy.
I swing by the Old Volunteer, on the way home. and chew over the cud with 'DJ Dan' and Lewis. I'm on my lonesome back at HQ - Ms Moon is on a hen night. I thought I couldn't stomach another football game, but Crystal Palace and Liverpool are on TV. It pretty much sums up my day that the final score is 0-0. Goodnight Vienna.
I've gotten over it by Monday. I watch the last two episodes, on BBC iPlayer, of the cult comedy sitcom Early Doors, written by Craig Cash and Phil Mealey. Tears of laughter roll down my cheeks as the vicious one-liners and banter are shared out by the regulars in the Grapes pub in Manchester.
I spend more time watching films at Broadway Cinema than I do from my armchair on Amazon. I pay £35 for a membership which includes two free tickets, a further 20% discount off any film and a fifth off any food in the cafe and Mezz Bar.
The film I watch this evening is on at Screen 4; the tiniest of them all. I have the misfortune to sit next to a lady who has a carrier bag stacked full of snacks and confectioneries. I struggle to hear the first half an hour of the film due to wrappers being opened, crisps being crunched and sweets chomped on.
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The film, ironically, is called The Menu. It's an American comedy horror film. Ralph Fiennes plays the part of a crazy chef who serves up an eight course dinner which the lady next to me salivates over despite eating enough food to feed an army. I comment on the film on Twitter and hashtag Ralph in. He actually likes my tweet. He's dead famous isn't he?
I go on one of my mad walks on Tuesday, up to Colwick Woods. The muddy, sludgy conditions make circumnavigating the eastern edge of the woods a tad tricky. It's worth the effort though as the sweeping views out towards Nottingham Racecourse are stunning.
I call in at Oakdale chippy in Bakersfield. It's being given rave reviews on Google Review and Trip Advisor. I enjoy some banter with the owner. Much to his dismay I only partake in a small bag of chips. He throws in some samples of kebab meat. I promise to return one Friday evening. I finish Tuesday off with a few craft ales up at Bread and Bitter on Mapperley Tops with Pete and Peachy (good name for a band that).
I've been drafted into Ms Moon's pub quiz team on Wednesday evening at the Fox and Grapes in Sneinton, following a poor showing the previous week. They have some cracking ales on, so I'm as happy as Larry. Nottingham legend Al Needham is mine host. I used to enjoy reading his ramblings in the cult magazines When Saturday Comes and Left Lion. We put up a good fight in the quiz, finishing 4th. Ms Moon is proud as punch, and also isn't a scaredy cat at the bus stop, as she has a one-eyed chaperone to protect her.
It's Thursday evening and there is a killer on the loose on the cobbles of Weatherfield, in Coronation Street. Audrey Roberts' lad, Stephen, is an utter buffoon. He's nailed on to win the TV Times 'best actor award.' He 'acts' out some of the most crass and cringe worthy scenes not seen since blog favourite 'Big Al' pulled endless women on Emmerdale Farm. The clown mixes up his cups of tea. He plants drugs in one of them, intended for Carla Connor, but gets the cups mixed up, resulting in him drinking a spiked cuppa full of drugs. The blithering idiot begins hallucinating and sweating up in a hotel bedroom. I sit in my armchair shaking my head in disbelief. Ms Moon is gripped by proceedings. I'm told to shush each time I speak.
The Friday Club Jolly Boys outing takes place the following day. The Board of Directors (Sticky and Tony Mac) have a morning meeting at award-winning YOLK cafe, located at the bottom of Hockley. We polish off a champagne socialist breakfast of woodland mushrooms, poached eggs, heaped with lean bacon on sourdough bread. Today's trip is out to the historic towns of Lichfield and Tamworth in Staffordshire.
There's a full squadron including: Coops, Ackers, 'Chopper Harris' and Limon. The publicans in Lichfield are dead friendly. They give us some pointers on pubs that aren't on our list. The only downside to the day is having to wait for trains with rubbish connection times at Lichfield Trent Valley Station.
The star of the show is the CAMRA U.K. Pub of the Year. Tamworth Tap has some insane beers on the scoreboard. After downing a few ales we finish off with a rocket fuel 10% barrel-aged stout from the Wander Beyond yard. A taxi is required to enable us to catch the 8.30 pm train back to Nottingham. A few more strong crafts are seen off at BeerHeadZ, an old British Transport Police hut, situated outside the station.
It's Saturday and matchday. What will today bring? As we often say, 'it's the hope that kills you.' I'm on cooking duty this evening. Unfortunately that means a trip down to the worst supermarket on this planet: Carlton Tesco.
I walk past a building site where the Earl of Chesterfield pub once stood. 26 new flats are being built. I've clocked the site manager tossing it off for months now. He's brilliant at pointing, supping endless cups of tea and playing on his phone. I might apply for a job at that firm.
The shop at Tesco starts reasonably well. Newcastle band, The Kane Gang, are on the Radio Tesco dukey. You can't beat a bit of 'Closest Thing to Heaven', although some of you will remember them more for the theme tune to Byker Grove. There's the usual shambles in the self-service checkouts. I pop another blood pressure tablet on my return home.
I warm up some Tuscan chicken at lunchtime, it was something I rustled up the other evening. Ms Moon has failed a fitness test due to an abscess under her tooth. OUCH! I make the short 30 minute journey down to Stoke Lane by foot, in an attempt to blow away the cobwebs.
The clubhouse is packed solid with folk from both teams. The Millers have laid on a treat for us all by securing the services of former Newcastle United and NFFC legend Frank Clark as a guest speaker. The visiting supporters, from North Shields, near to Newcastle, are revelling in the atmosphere.
Frank Clark tells a lovely anecdote, from back in 1979, just hours before the European Cup final versus Malmo. Martin O'Neill, Archie Gemmill and Clark were all carrying niggling injuries. Only one spot was available in the team between the three of them. Brian Clough asked each one of them if they were fit to play. All three of the players replied in the affirmative. It was Frank Clark who got the final nod from Clough. Years later Clark and Clough's paths crossed again. Frank plucked up the courage to ask 'Old Big Head' why he was chosen in front of the other two. "Because I felt you'd be the least likely one to lie to me" replied Cloughy.
The Millers, desperate for a win, look on course for victory after taking the lead through a far post header from Dean Freeman. I spend the first half catching up with top Millers fan, Nigel Harlow, who has spent the last few weeks in Thailand, and is looking well on it. On the pitch things get better when a North Shields player is somewhat harshly dismissed from the field of play for a dangerous high foot by an overzealous referee.
Everyone's chipper and on good form at the break. I tell 'Murph' I'm 99% certain that I'll be making the 300 mile round trip up to Hebburn, Newcastle, on Tuesday. I might need to negotiate that with Ms Moon during Ant 'n Dec's Saturday Night Takeaway that's on TV later this evening, when she's under the influence of prosecco. He celebrates the news by playing 'Shot by Both Sides' by punk band Magazine.
North Shields are galvanised and united over the injustice of the first half's harsh red card. To a man they are magnificent in the second 45 minutes. They deservedly equaliser and score a brilliant late winner through their 11 jacket.
The visitors are well backed by their supporters. There are joyous scenes at the final whistle. As for Carlton, not sure where they can turn to now. One or two players have jumped ship or been pushed out. Tommy Brookbanks is deflated and low in the post match interview. It's a horrible watch. He admits to having sleepless nights. Tommy's a good man. Whoever said it was only a game, was wrong.
Attendance: 161
Man of the Match: Frank Clark and blog favourite Dan Brown.
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