An update:
A Nottingham Forest supporter made a valid point about this 19 year old blog, last week, on the 'Lost That Loving Feeling' message board. He mentioned that I'm not groundhopping much these days and that I spend most of the time watching Carlton Town and Nottingham Forest.
I had a life-changing moment in Sept 2020. Most of you will know that out of the blue I was diagnosed with a detached retina, accompanied by four large tears. My eyesight was saved, at the height of COVID, by the greatest surgeon the U.K. has ever seen. Sadly, the vision in my poorly eye isn't, in my opinion, good enough for me to feel comfortable to drive - particularly at night. There is the option to wear an eyepatch and sing 'Dreams Can Come True' by Gabrielle - but as for now, and the last two and half years, I won't be driving.
It does limit one's travel. Ms Moon can't be clocking up the miles everywhere, and the train strikes haven't helped. Every cloud has a silver lining. Over the last five years I've been looking for a local club that I could follow. Keyworth United wasn't an option. I enjoy watching Radford FC and Gedling Miners Welfare, but I was trying to find something where there was a togetherness and a resilience behind the scenes. I was looking for like-minded people who travel on away days together, have a passion for music, real ale and fish and chips, and who stick together, win or lose.
I invested in a season ticket at Carlton Town, back in July, as I live in the town and believe in supporting local businesses. What I found, when I went down to Stoke Lane, was a similar story being told by supporters who I met and chatted with. I joined the 150 Club and made a small contribution towards the programme with a few quizzes. I then started to attend fundraising/guest speaker events and stayed behind after games in the clubhouse for a few sociable ones, with folk who have now become good friends. Sometimes we swing by the Old Volunteer, on Burton Road, on our way home.
The point I'm trying to make is that I'm comfortable in my skin that I'm staying closer to home to watch football. There are still visits to Sincil Bank and Meadow Lane, when time permits. And of course I will still travel north with Ms Moon, or by train, to watch random games in Yorkshire, Lancashire and County Durham. Sorry for the ramble, I just wanted to make it clear that groundhopping isn't my priority.
The NFFC v Wolves blog caused quite a stir on the Forest forum. There were 35 replies, with not one comment on the match. People chose to tell anecdotes from their childhood about how they used to eat Haslet sandwiches with Grandma and Grandad and whether brown sauce, mustard or God forbid, salad cream was the best accompaniment. This was in response to the devastating news that Mrs Bunns Cob Emporium had none of the pork, herb-based, spicy meat in the house.
Monday late afternoon is spent holed-up at Broadway Cinema, in Hockley. All films are £5. I picked one out called God's Creatures. It's a psychological drama, set in a close-knit Irish harbour town. A mother tells police a massive fib to cover up for her son. To be honest that's about all that really happens. "That was grim", says the bloke behind me, as we all file out of the exit door.
It's Tuesday teatime and I have the misfortune of spending an hour or so in a Wetherspoons pub. It's the Trent Bridge Inn, in West Bridgford, which sits outside Nottinghamshire County Cricket Club. 'Our Joe', 'The Keyworth Georgie Best' and ex work son 'Tottenham Tom' are wolfing down some tea. 'Our Joe' has recently returned from 17x nights in Thailand. The 'KGB' has had some eye trouble himself, as a splinter of timber has scratched his eyeball.
I jump on a bus outside Jesse Boot's first ever dispensary at The Embankment pub (Boots Chemist). I alight on Weekday Cross and walk into Market Square, which is thankfully an open space today and not filled with tacky stalls selling tat. I wander into MSR Newsagents, on Angel Row, to grab a chocolate bar and a bottle of water. I head up Derby Road where I bump into Tony Mac who has had a few beers up on Canning Circus, en route to watching punk rock band, The Damned, at Rock City.
I bid farewell to Mac and continue my walk onto Alfreton Road before taking a right hand turn onto Bentinck Road. I'm soon on Selhurst Street and parting with £6 on the turnstile at Radford FC. "Don't let him in" is shouted in the direction of the turnstile operator who is called 'ASBO.' 'The Radford Barry Fry' (Big Glenn) has clocked me queuing up at the gate. I'm the biggest Jonah in the club's history.
I bump into NFFC fan and fellow groundhopper Trevor Gillies. We while away the time towards kick off catching up on what grounds we have both recently visited. We're joined by 'DJ Dan' and 'DJ Murph.' Second-placed Birstall look sharp in the first 45 minutes, but it's Radford who run out easy winners after a powerful second half display with some ruthless finishing. Big Glenn is grinning from ear to ear. That smile is wiped off his face the following morning when a three point deduction appears on the FA Full Time United Counties League table for an unexplained misdemeanour.
Rainy days and Wednesdays always get me down ...lol. I'm back at the cinema. Carlton fan Nigel has recommended a French/Spanish subtitled collaboration called The Beasts. It's a banger folks. It puts me in a good mood for the quiz at Sneinton's Fox and Grapes. We just fall short, finishing in second place, missing out by one and a half points. A £25 drinks voucher is a good return.
I dive in and out of charity shops, buying vinyl records on Thursday afternoon. There are bargains to be had and it makes me feel happy to find some gems from my youth, that I wanted in the 45s bin, at a shop that raises monies for the partially sighted. I turn up a tight alleyway off Long Row, called Hurts Yard. Rob's Records has been up here for donkey's years. The place is a tip; it's part of the attraction. I bag 'Actually' by Pet Shop Boys for £4. I celebrate up at Good Fellow George where I sink an 8% DIPA from a brewery in Enderby, Leicester.
Ms Moon and I have breakfast at the award-winning YOLK on Goose Gate on Good Friday morning. We then take a stroll up through the Park Estate, a posh area of Nottingham, where the Castle is located. The highlight of the day (according to me) is a homemade Lancashire hot pot, made by my own fair hands. There's not a sniff of the barmaid's apron all day - just a couple of cans in my armchair.
Today's game for Carlton versus Consett Town, from County Durham, is massive. To take my mind off it, I clear out the garage and pile high the rubbish, we've accumulated, in the boot of the car. We queue at the recycling centre, close to Nottingham Showcase Cinema, for what appears an age.
Ms Moon drops me off at the ground at two bells. I shout up a can of Castle Rock citra pale ale and flick through the excellent programme produced by 'Big Joe.' 'DJ Dan' is spinning an eclectic set. I'm looking forward to hearing 'Up the Junction' by Squeeze.
The guest speaker is a U.K. karate champion from Nottingham called James Wells. His journey and story is a tearjerker. He has twice overcome blood cancer. The room is in awe as James holds his audience. The talk is once again interrupted by a yapping white little mongrel dog, who cheesed off Frank Clarke a few weeks ago. He might be a Miller (the dog) but he (Joey) needs to show a little more respect.
I stand with Nige and Reuben, a Mancunian, who lives in Lowdham. I enjoy the chat, but not the football in the first 20 minutes. Consett score from long range early doors and see a lob bounce to safety off the inside of the post; this would have been a mountain to climb for the Millers had their fortunes differed.
The visiting 'keeper has had a shaky 45 minutes. He looks to have carried a corner kick over his own goal line. The referee's assistant begs to differ. All the lads behind the goal are convinced the ball was a foot over the line.
I've a good feeling, as the Millers have finished the half strongly. There's a touching moment at the break. Edward's Dad, John Hartstone, gives me a book written by his wife Hazel, that is about her father, who was a Second World War POW. It took Hazel four years to write up his memoirs. It's a lovely, warm moment and only validates my decision to follow the club.
I stand with John Dring and Matt Dring in the second half. John's feeling chipper having won a bottle of red wine in the raffle. Niall Davie restores parity in the 47th minute. Big Alex Troke holds his nerve to score from the penalty spot to give the Millers their first League at home in over five months.
Man of the Match Niall Hylton
Attendance: 150
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