Keyworth United Res 2-6 Bilborough Town

Tony Mac and I have a stroke of good fortune on our journey back from Birmingham New Street Station, after 24 hours on the sauce in the city centre and neighbouring suburbs. We catch an earlier train than anticipated, as we were concerned about the build up of traffic from the 'World Famous City Ground' following the Forest v Everton late kick-off. We both receive an email from Cross Country Trains to say our later train had been cancelled at short notice. It's a lame excuse from another inept and underperforming train operator. Please put them back in the hands of the People like Northern and TransPennine Express are.

I'm dog tired as I bid farewell to Mac on arrival back in our great City. I jump into a taxi outside Loxley House, that heads back up towards Carlton. Grim news is breaking from NFFC. Big Sean Dyche has turned up the heat on NFFC's head coach, Steve Cooper, with a 1-0 win. The goal has come from Dwight McNeil, a player Dyche helped develop during his time at Turf Moor.

Ms Moon isn't interested in my boring, endless anecdotes of high jinks and drinking escapades with Tony Mac in Brum, as she is engrossed in the fag end of Strictly Come Dancing. I ask her if the lass from Corrie is still in poll position, before climbing the wooden hill and falling into a coma, dreaming of 13% abv boozy pastry imperial stouts with Bourbon and Cognac flavouring.

My alarm beeps at 4 am. Us Media lads don't have time to rest on our laurels - I work at a newsagents by the way. I fire up the kettle and pour a treacle-coloured Nescafe Alta Rica coffee, with a splash of milk in it. I can usually flop into my armchair and book an UBER ride to the shop in two minutes at this God forsaken unearthly hour of the morning. I draw back the curtains and notice, to my horror, that around three inches of snow has fallen during the night. In my drunken haze I had totally ignored a severe weather warning on my Accuweather app the previous evening.

I start to panic as I get the wheel of misfortune on my UBER app. A lot of these Herberts can't drive in ideal driving conditions, what are they going to be like on untreated, snow-covered roads? I finally get a booking, after what seems like an age. Miraculously, the papers arrive from 'the Smoke' in good time to be delivered. A massive hat tip must go to Dayne Lowe, in our shop, who delivers the shop's papers to hilly areas of Nottingham such as: Mapperley, Sherwood and Arnold.

I flick the Vs at UBER for the journey home to Chez Palms. A £4 bus fare for two rides on the excellent Nottingham City Transport bus numbers 58 and 27, see me back home for 3 pm following a nine hour shift at the MSR branch in Arnold.

It's Tuesday evening and I'm back on that 58 bus heading into the city centre. I turn a blind eye (my bad one) to the monstrosity that has pitched up in our Market Square. I remember back in the day how beautiful Slab Square used to look with its huge, towering trees, fountains and flower beds.

I meet 'Our Joe' and ex work son Tommy, in Hooters on London Road. I always feel uncomfortable there, if I'm honest, but the snap isn't too bad. On arrival at Carlton I'm asked by the lads if my glasses steamed up whilst I was eating my tea. I blame it on the cold, Baltic conditions.

Carlton Town versus Cleethorpes Town has somehow avoided a postponement despite a downpour of biblical proportions. The Carlton faithful have been starved of games of late, this is despite the valiant efforts of the World's greatest groundsman and blog legend Swifty.

I stand with 'Herr Harlow' for the first half. We're nearer to the end that the Millers attack. On reflection this looks a foolish decision as it's the visitors from Lincolnshire who have the better of the first 45 minutes. Thankfully they snatch at their chances as they raid down the flanks.

DJ Murph, aka 'Chief Wiggum', is in charge of the decks in the clubhouse this evening as 'Casually Dan' is on babysitting duties for 7 year old daughter Lily - although I must add both are attendees on a school night. 'Murph' plays a stunning, jaw-dropping set at the break that draws admiration from all quarters. He starts with Gangsters by Coventry-based Two Tone band The Specials. He follows this up with 'Love Like Blood', by post-punk band Killing Joke, whose guitarist 'Geordie' Walker passed away in Prague two weeks ago. The final track is 'Babylon is Burning' by The Ruts, whose lead singer Malcolm Owen died of a heroin overdose in 1980 at the peak of their fame.

This magnificent trio of records has fired up and galvanised the Mighty Millers both on and off the pitch. The ever consistent Niall Hylton scores a beauty from distance with his trusty left foot as Carlton look to run riot. The referee has spent most of the evening making a mountain out of a molehill, as both sides just look to play the beautiful game. Things boil over just as Gaz Bee is fleecing me for £4 on the football card (who won it btw Gaz?).

My back is turned as a huge roar goes up for a 'cast iron' penalty. It's a NO from tonight's referee Mr Richard Morris, but more importantly no flag is raised by assistant referee Grace Lowe who is only a few yards away from where the assault took place. She feels the wrath of Chief Wiggum's tongue with language I haven't heard since I worked in the coal mining industry.

At the final whistle the squad walk across to acknowledge the Millers support congregated behind the goal. One of the management team shouts out a derogatory remark aimed at the official(s) inept performance. "Put that in your match report" he shouts, before an about turn. It's another strong second half performance by Tommy and Mark's brave, young warriors.

Wednesday lunchtime and afternoon are spent once again in Nottingham. Ms Moon and I have a long lunch on the mezzanine floor at Delilah Fine Foods on Victoria Street. I buy some thermals from Blacks as Winter sets in and I browse the shelves of second hand book shops in hipster Hockley. I call by The Bell Inn for a soft drink before strolling up to the Cornerhouse on Burton Street.

It's a change of scenery on the film front today. Broadway Cinema is swapped out for Cineworld, which I must say is a lot cheaper and has comfier seats too. I'll always support the independent cinema that relies on donations. Saltburn isn't on the screens at Broadway. The film is set at Oxford University and stars Richard E Grant who plays the wealthy, eccentric father of a student who has been befriended by a scholar from Prescot, in Merseyside. It's a black comedy and psychological thriller that I would wholeheartedly recommend when it reaches our TV screens.

Friday evening is spent with Ms Moon and our good friends Roberto and Joanne who volunteer tirelessly for the AC Wollaton football charity, which raises monies and enhances lives through the power of football. We enjoy a few drinks at the TBI in West Bridgford, where the drinks are as cheap as chips and the company is first class.

I'd already made my mind up to go and watch 'The Keyworth Georgie Best' play for Keyworth United Reserves at 'the Theatre of 3G' - Sticky doesn't do 3G, but blood is thicker than fake grass. I jump on the Keyworth 6 that crosses over Trent Bridge, with views of the swollen banks of the river. Just two passengers are on board for the entire journey.

Johnny Harkins is filling out the team sheet as I seek the warmth of the clubhouse where on the TV screen Harvey Elliott has secured a late win for Liverpool, which means Sticky is through to the next round of MSR's Last Man Standing.

I briefly watch the teams warm up in the blustery, showery conditions. I catch up with Ressies manager Chris Thompson, who makes me feel very welcome by treating me to a cup of tea, The teams pay their respects to very popular Bilborough Town player Kail Thurman, who tragically lost his life in an accident.

I stand with Roberto as we feel the full force of a westerly wind accompanied by squally showers. Bilborough's 17 year old striker, David Olatomide, is posing problems. He's already missed a couple of chances before he opens the scoring. The Green Army also has an exciting young striker called 'Junior.' I've seen this kid open the bowling for Nottinghamshire CCC U18s down at Lady Bay Sports Ground  - he's only 16 yrs old. He gets a deserved equaliser as Keyworth grow into the game.

The wind advantage is Bilborough's gain in the second half. They go 3-1 up, but are then pegged back with a tap-in at the far post by 'The Keyworth Georgie Best.' He departs the game on 80 minutes, clearly yearning for a pint and a fag. The final scoreline is harsh on the Green Army young guns who have plugged away. The two in midfield are outstanding. The Ressies are in good health, as are the first team with six wins on the bounce. It's great to see the Keyworth community enjoying their football again now that the toxic atmosphere from seasons gone by has been extinguished.

The Bilborough Town team and management come into the bar for after match hospitality. What a smashing bunch of lads they are too. The game has been played in an excellent spirit and has been well refereed too. I can't 'arf pick 'em. The night is only to get better. More on that next week, if I get a game in.

Man of the Match: David Olatomide

Notts County 3-1 Crawley Town

I bid farewell to John Harris and wife Jackie in Kimberley high street after viewing a hard-fought game versus Lincoln United. Kimberley Miners Welfare gave their all and left nothing out on the pitch. John assures me that there is a No.1 bus to Nottingham every ten minutes. The scoreboard, at the bus stop, begs to differ, as it displays in neon lights that there's a 25 minute waiting time - it's one of those frustrating moments us bus wankers have to suffer now and again.

A guy is hanging around waiting for the delayed bus with me. I had him down as a groundhopper to be honest, due to him having a rucksack hanging off his shoulder. I was going to ask him whether his mum had made him jam sandwiches and packed them in a Tupperware container. It turns out that he's a Lincoln United supporter. He has to catch a bus into Nottingham, a train to Lincoln and then make a 45 minute walk home. And here's me bellyaching about waiting 25 minutes for the next bus.

I'm down on the rota  to work over 40 hours at the paper shop in Arnold this week. It's a busy newsagent at the best of times and is only going to ramp up with Christmas around the corner. It's an EVRI parcel shop too, and that proper keeps Sticky on his toes as 500 parcels are booked in and out of the shop each day.

The EVRI driver is a massive Benfica fan, as he used to live in Portugal. I asked him for his thoughts on the Nottingham Forest 'keeper Odysseas Vlachodomis, who the Tricky Trees signed from Benfica. He says he is a fantastic stopper and that he helped his club reach the Champions League semi-final last season. His achilles heel is that he can't play it out from the back, which is a prerequisite in the Premier League these days.

It's Tuesday evening and I'm in one of my favourite old school pubs in Nottingham called Lillie Langtry's, which is located opposite the Theatre Royal and Royal Concert Hall. I enjoy a pint of Tribute from the St Austell Brewery, in Cornwall. I walk to Notts County's game versus Crawley Town with one of the customers at the shop called Phil, who, when he worked, was a painter and decorator, taxi driver and courier.

It's £22 to sit in Block B of the Derek Pavis Stand. The Pies paper-thin squad has been stretched of late. Cedwyn Scott and the influential Matty Palmer have both been ruled out for the season. Their away form is a worry, as is the defence who are leaking goals like a sieve.

I stare across the pitch during the minute's applause for former Barcelona, Tottenham Hotspur and England manager Terry Venables, who recently passed away at the age of 80 years old. Housed in the Jimmy Sirrel Stand are 136 visiting supporters from Crawley, most of whom will have made the tiring 340 mile round trip. It's those loyal, die-hard fans that cheer first, after former Pie, Adam Campbell, hits a pearler of a shot from distance to put the Red Devils one to the good.

Jodi Jones and David McGoldrick are running the show. The latter restores parity as the game ebbs and flows. Crawley, to their credit, more than deserve to be on level terms at the break. The visitors commit hari kari in the second half, gifting the Pies goals following sloppy defending from a set piece and trying to be too clever by playing out from the back. 

It's Wednesday evening and Ms Moon is up on Carlton Hill at the Christmas lights switch-on. I flick on the TV set and settle down in my armchair whilst Galatasaray and Man Utd commence battle in the Champions League. It's an incredible, breathtaking, fast-paced game of ball with chances galore going begging. 3-3 is the final score.

A shivering cold Ms Moon wrestles control of the remote. She flicks down the TV schedule and selects the Northern soap opera Coronation Street, which has been running on our TV screens for just shy of 63 years.

There's a scene that features Chesney and his wife Gemma in the living room of their house on the cobbled streets of Weatherfield. I make a comment to Ms Moon that all that Gemma seems to do is loaf about on the sofa munching on snacks all day. And another thing whilst I'm on one, they've got five kids including quads, and yet I've never heard a peep or seen his missus break sweat once; well only when Chesney brings one of his kebabs back from the shop. I ask Ms Moon how they can afford dog food for Schmeichel. She says the Great Dane died years ago.

It's Thursday evening and I'm arriving in the city centre on the Nottingham City Transport No.58 bus. I wander through the Market Square, ignoring that bloody chavvy market. The cosy Barrel Drop pub, tucked away up Hurts Yard, is packed to the rafters, as its pay day. 

I haven't been in the Bell Inn, a 15th century pub just off the Square, in ages. I manage to find a table to the rear of the main bar. I graze over a rich and fruity Plum Porter from the Nottingham Brewery. Half an hour later I venture out into the dark and freezing conditions.

I jump onto a NCT tram that takes me out of town, past Nottingham Trent University, through Forest Fields, where Goose Fair is held each year, before I alight at the Noel Street stop. I wander through Asda car park and cross over the road towards Selhurst Street. There isn't a game on at Radford FC this evening but there is entertainment (including Big Glenn). There's a comedian on, followed by the guest speaker, who is Hull City legendary striker Dean Windass.

I exchange insults with Big Glenn, whose table I am on. I love him to bits really and his Club too, I also catch up with blog legend Swifty who is still producing first-class playing surfaces in Notts Non League football that are flatter than the whole of Lincolnshire. I'm introduced to Leigh Palin, an ex pro with Hull City, who has kindly driven Windass to the gig. I chat with Dean who is keen to learn about the local Non League scene; he's a smashing fellow.

The comedian warms us all up with some razor sharp wit and amusing gags. Dean Windass is on stage for an hour. He is a warm, humble, down to earth guy. He recognises the 'working class' audience immediately and embraces this, changing his set accordingly. He says "I knew you were for me lads as soon as I walked through the door. You're my kind of people", he adds.

I'd forgotten the list of clubs he'd played for, they include: Hull City, Aberdeen, Oxford Utd, Bradford City and Sheffield United. He talks openly about the death of his father, his struggles after retirement and two attempts at suicide. It's tear jerking stuff as he reminds the Men in the room to speak out and share if they are struggling to cope in any walks of their life. It preys on my mind and makes me feel sad as I wait for an UBER outside Japatti Junction on Radford Road.

I meet Tony Mac on the 2pm Cross Country Trains, Nottingham to Birmingham New Street. It's the Friday Night Club Christmas excursion. We've booked an apartment in the heart of the city centre with two separate bedrooms, so we don't wake each other up snoring.

The idea is to tick off as many CAMRA beer entries that we've left to do, as well as visiting some of the Heritage Pubs that this great city has to offer. I've targeted the Digbeth area this evening. Some of the pubs are outstanding and mostly Grade II listed buildings. A few to visit, if of any interest are: Lamp Tavern and White Swan.

We jump in a taxi and visit some classic boozers in the Harborne area before returning to the city centre for some heavy duty nightcaps at craft bars called Tilt and Kilder. It's bitterly cold and I've lost my beanie hat. We arrive back at our centrally-heated apartment at well gone twelve bells. Some session that was.

We catch the train to Northfield in the morning and have a 'Spoons breakfast at the Black Horse. It has a timbered exterior and carved woodwork. There's a few sprogs running around but on the whole the punters are well behaved. I tend to trip 'em up to be honest, so they end up back in their high chair.

There's three pubs on our radar in a suburb called Stirchley. We arrive at the British Oak at 11.57. It's a nail-biting three minute wait for the pub front doors to be opened - 'Trumpy Bolton Time' I call it. We finish up in the Erdington and Aston area before fortuiously catching an earlier train home so we don't get caught up in football traffic following the Nottingham Forest v Everton game.

Attendance: 7,716

Men and Women of the Match: The Crawley 136