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

Kimberley Miners Welfare 0-2 Lincoln United

It has proved a bridge too far for Angela Rippon on Strictly Come Dancing at the Blackpool Tower Ballroom. Ms Moon has been calling it for weeks. Let's be clear on this folks, Rippon is a one trick pony. That high-kick manoeuvre, where she lifts her leg in the air, famously shown on the Morecambe and Wise Christmas Special in 1984, isn't so pleasing on the eye these days. I've had 50p on the lass from Corrie to win it. She's bound to have been to dance school on her journey from being a young actress. 4/11 on, are the best odds I can find.

Sunday evening is like pulling teeth; and trust me my back molar is decaying by the day. 'We've' already had to suffer Four in a Bed, Undercover Boss and the 'Strictly Results.' I hear the jungle drum theme tune at bang on nine bells. That bloody awful programme with its Zzzzz-list celebrities and boring, predictable Geordie presenters, is to be aired on ITV for the next three weeks. 

I'm sulking in bed whilst that wack TV show is on. I listen to the final two episodes of the brilliant BBC Sport podcast called 'Nothing Will be the Same.' As mentioned last week, it's a fly-on-the-wall, behind the scenes documentary on the last 18 months' happenings at Everton's Goodison Park.

Sean Dyche and Director of Football, Kevin Thelwell, feature heavily at the fag end of the podcast. Thelwell gives a brilliant insight into the jigsaw puzzle of how a club recruits and the pecking order that comes with this. Dyche is bloody magnificent. I love the way he drills down into how their talismanic,  injury prone striker, Dominic Calvert-Lewin, keeps on breaking down. Dyche says they've even looked at the mattress he sleeps on and the car he drives, to see if this could be the root cause. There's a jaw-dropping quote from 'Big Sean' "I was at Burnley nearly 10 years and have probably got a book in me. I've been at Everton for four months and could probably write three.

It's Tuesday evening and the pain in my tooth is still dulling and aching. Talking about cry babies, Sam Dingle in Emmerdale Farm is shedding a few tears. I mention to Ms Moon that in real life the actor is from Nottingham and what's he bellyaching for. Things are great in our county: NFFC are in the Prem, U Pies are playing sexy football and the Stags remain unbeaten in League Two. Ms Moon says that Emmerdale is real life and that this scene in the soap is a very sensitive subject. She says the only person who is crying is Sticky because tonight's game between the Mighty Millers and Stockton Town has been waterlogged off.

I'm on the phone to Treeline Dental Care, in Keyworth. I can't stand the pain anymore. The lady on reception very kindly shoehorns me in for an emergency appointment. I'd feared the worst and the X-ray confirms this. At tooth hurty it's a molar extraction. After four numbing injections and 15 minutes of twisting, turning and cracking, the offending member drops onto the surgery floor. I decline an offer to keep the decay-riddled, rotten, black fang.

Whilst I'm on my old manor of Keyworth, I take a stroll up one of the village's oldest streets. It leads me to a 350 year old pub called The Salutation. One of my best friends, Paul Keeling, has recently taken over the running of the pub, with his partner Tracy. It's been shut for time but has recently had a £300,000 refurbishment. I book a table for 9th December, when my good mate 'Babs' is over from Spain.

It's Christmas haircut time on Thursday morning. I jump off the Carlton 27 bus, opposite the Fox and Grapes in Sneinton. The best barber in inner city Nottingham is located on Bath Street. The man with the scissors in his hands is from Bosnia and is called Eko. He has won more awards than Vidal Sasoon.

Thirty minutes later a bright-eyed but less than bushy-tailed Sticky, with ears lowered, is pounding the streets of Nottingham. I wander past the embarrassing Nottingham Christmas Market, with its tacky stalls. Remember when Nottingham City Council allowed the market to open during the height of COVID restrictions, only for it to be closed down eight hours later?

I admire the wonderful old Debenhams building, on Long Row, which is now sadly derelict, before shooting up Castle Gate and back round into the city centre via Hounds Gate. I look upwards all the time at the stunning architecture that our fantastic city is so proud of.

I meet 'The Taxman' for lunch. We take a steady walk up the banks of the Trent towards the village of Wilford. We've not been to football together for ages due to us both suffering from poor health. I no longer have a car and have taken the decision to never drive again, much to the relief of the road users, particularly the Deliveroo cyclists of this shire, who to this day, even as a pedestrian, I try to knock off their bikes, given the opportunity.

I call by a Lincoln Green pub called The Brickyard on the top of Carlton Hill. There's a man sitting with his dog and another guy reading a book. A bloke walks into the bar and asks for six bottles of wine. The landlord explains that they are £15 each. My ears prick up as you can get a bottle for £7 across the road at Tesco Express. The guy hands over £90 which the barman puts in the till. He then changes his mind and asks for a refund. The money is handed back, but the guy claims that he's only been given £60. It's clearly a scam and a 20 minute stand-off ensues. To be honest I'm up for a scrap and so is the man and the dog. Thankfully the scammer does a runner once the threat of a call to rozzers is made.

It's Friday lunchtime and I'm walking down Burton Road towards Carlton Town FC. It's a crisp winter's day with crystal clear blue skies. It's the Millers' Christmas Luncheon which is being hosted by club chairman Mick Garton (my boss). The guest speaker is former Nottingham Forest 'keeper Mark Crossley.

I've been kindly invited by Jon Gilbert, a club sponsor from Gilbert Wealth Management. Coincidentally, Jon was in the same year at school as Ms Moon at Bread 'n Lard Comprehensive. 'Big Norm' is on stage at 3.30pm. The captivated audience have been on the sauce since 1pm. As well as making over 300 appearances for the Tricky Trees, Crossley was also capped 8 times for Wales.

I've heard most of the stories before, they include: the Wimbledon ghetto blaster, Barbara Clough's kettle and Big Norm playing Sunday pub football for Simon Clough's team in D***y. He mentions his debut v Liverpool in 1988 and his second game away at Newcastle. I was at the latter game. When Newcastle fans go on about being a big club, just remember that only 13,000 bothered to turn up at St James' Park that day. Mark Crossley tells a fantastic yarn. A fun-filled hour passes by in the blink of an eye.

Day falls into night and gets really messy, as we end up at Dr Who's son's pub, tucked away at the back of Sneinton Market, called the Bath Inn. Tom Baker's lad is the landlord. Amy Winehouse's Back to Black is played in full on the dukey. The group I'm in has a few Notts County fans, whose lads are in the club's academy system. It's that decision time of season when pro deals are awarded. I used to be head of recruitment at the club's academy when they were top end League One - so understand their angst at this time of year.

I feel a tad fragile as I pull back the duvet late on Saturday morning. I've ummed and ahhed on where to go to watch football today as Ms Moon is away in Brighton visiting her brother for a few days. I was thinking about watching Wayne Rooney's Birmingham City versus rock bottom Sheff Wed, but canned that idea when Tony Mac and I decided to have a 24 hour pub run next Friday and Sat in Brum.

Mr and Mrs John Harris have said they will be in attendance at Kimberley MW v Lincoln United today and it's over a year since I've seen them. I head into town and nearly get mown down by a couple of electric scooters on a zebra crossing (adds them to the hit list) before jumping on a Number 1 bus up to Ripley. 

I've been recommended Olde English Chippy - known locally as 'Linda's.' I order up a 'Fish Special' that doesn't disappoint. Word up is that customers were queuing out of the door onto the street for four hours last night. One of the ladies said she received a standing ovation at the local pub at the end of her shift at 10pm.

I stand and stare in awe at one of the UK's great war memorials. As I read the names of the fallen, my spine tingles and my stomach wrenches. One of Kimberley's own, Jack Bamford, became the youngest ever recipient of the George Cross in 1953, after saving his two brothers in a house fire. He passed away last month at the age of 86 years old.

There's an emotional moment in Roots micropub when John Harris and wife Jackie present me with a packet of haslet from Birds, after a shopping trip to D***y this morning. What a lovely touch. It's freezing cold at the game. High flying Lincoln look in the mood to continue their good form. Dan Cotton gives them the lead after a catalogue of errors in the Kimbo penalty box.The match-defining moment happens after Kimbo are awarded a penalty. Aaron Coyle scuffs his kick, 'keeper Jack Steggles gets down well and makes a great save as well as blocking a rebound. It's not Coyle's day. In the second half he fizzes a shot from distance that beats Steggles all ends up, only to see it cannon off the upright.

The impressive Cotton puts the game to bed, but the visitors still have to rely on some acrobatics from ex Miller Steggles before the ref blows the final whistle. It's great to catch up with people like Danny Staley and Steve Hobster who are the heart, soul and lifeline of the club.

Attendance:

People of the Match: Jack Steggles and Mr John Harris and wife Jackie.

Carlton Town 3-0 Brighouse Town AFC

Faggsy, Ms Moon and I exit Gedling Miners Welfare Plains Road ground, after witnessing a breathtaking six goal thriller, which ends with honours even. We chew the cud over a couple of pints of real ale at the Woodthorpe Top. 

I return home to a slow cooker chilli con carne with dark chocolate, which I knocked up earlier on today. Ms Moon is as happy as Larry as she watches Pointless, Strictly and Blankety Blank. I join in, when I can tear myself away from checking all the Non League results online.

My working hours have now changed. I no longer work on Saturdays, which will give me the opportunity to travel further (north) for games by train, as we have sold the car. This means a 4:am alarm call on a Sunday morning and a 5:am start at the newsagents in Arnold.

Wednesday is the start of my four days off. I Mr Sheen blast the house as Ms Moon takes her granddaughter, Bonnie, to the play park at Colwick. I spend the rest of the day studying the CAMRA Heritage Pub Guide, in anticipation and with a feeling of excitement of planned days out in London and Leeds. I've also listened to the brilliant BBC podcast 'Nothing Will be the Same', which is narrated by Mark Chapman. It's behind the scenes at Goodison Park during the Lampard reign and the early days of Sean Dyche. Big Sean makes it a must-listen documentary, as does his engaging assistant Ian Woan.

East Midlands Railway try their best to muck up my day out on Thursday. I bag a cheaper ticket, but have to change trains at Long Eaton. There is a six minute waiting time. Unfortunately (for me) the buffoons cock up as we arrive a full six minutes late. I make a dash to the opposite side of track to catch the connecting train. Luckily, EMR’s incompetence works in my favour, as this train is also late.

I alight at St Pancras and make my way towards King’s Cross, where my brother and I are to have breakfast at place called Morty and Bob’s, in a swanky place called Coal Drops Yard. The full English is hoovered up in no time. We jump on a tube up to Kilburn. The idea was to tick off the Black Lion on the High Street, but the place is plunged in darkness, as it’s not due open until 4 pm. We decide to stretch our legs by walking up to the Maida Vale area of the city. It has elegant Victorian housing and Little Venice waterway. 

We stroll up to the Maida Vale recording studios where bands such as The Clash did sessions for the John Peel Show. We also spot a blue plaque commemorating the birthplace of the famous mathematician and scientist, Alan Turing, who is also well known for cracking the Enigma Code in the Second World War. Benedict Cumberpatch plays the role of Turing in an excellent film called The Imitation Game.

We tick off three CAMRA pubs in the area before shooting up to Notting Hill and then Baker Street. A further two historical boozers, including Scottish Stores, are paid a visit in the Kings Cross area. I arrive home at 10.30 having walked 10 miles and drank 8 halves of southern dirty dishwater. Whilst the beer is piss poor, the Grade II listed buildings are a thing of beauty.

There’s no time to rest on my laurels or bask in the glory of a wonderful day out down ‘the Smoke, yesterday. Ms Moon and I are about to hit the north for an overnight stay.

We’ve not been to Leeds since COVID. I bagged a good deal through Booking.Com at the Radisson Blu, in the heart of the city centre. The Northern train pulls into Leeds Station at just gone midday. We take a wander around, admiring the wide range of architectural styles of notable buildings. Granary Wharf is stunning, with its cobbled bridges and working waterway.

I'm on my best behaviour today, as I have a few trips lined up before the end of the year. We dine at Browns restaurant, which ironically is located next door to our hotel. Like a lot of their buildings, it's housed in a former banking hall. A three course lunchtime deal is a steal at £21 per person. We spend another hour walking off the meal before checking-in.

Whilst Ms Moon has some rest and relaxation, Sticky Palms pounds the streets hunting down a couple of CAMRA pub entries that I've yet to visit. The Bankers Cat, on Boar Lane, is part of the Thornbridge Co Estate. I enjoy a hazy pale ale called Galaxy and Simcoe. I manage to squeeze in another pub called Duck and Drake which has 16 cask ales available and is also a live music venue.

Ms Moon and I have an enjoyable evening with all the other weekend revellers. We arrive back at the hotel to find the bar is still open. It is then that a 'Gincident' happens. I order up a Hendricks. It arrives minus a slice of cucumber - a big no no in the world of gin-drinking. Regular readers will be aware that bad news doesn't go down well with Sticky, particularly after four pints of real ale and three large Tanquerays. Aghast, I complain to the barman who says he will have to check in the storeroom for some cucumber.  He's gone that long that I thought, for a moment, the said room was in neighbouring Lancashire. To add injury to insult the tonic water is flat too.

Back in the room Ms Moon is flicking around the TV channels. I wish she hadn't, as the good lady chances upon the final scene of Shane Meadows' dark psychological thriller, Dead Man's Shoes. 'Richard' played by Paddy Considine, one by one rounds up a group of drug dealers who tortured his mentally-impaired brother Anthony. He forces the ringleader to plunge a knife into his heart. 

We're back in Nottingham for Saturday lunchtime. The train journey was long and drawn out. but not without incident, when a revenue protection officer caught a couple of fare dodgers red-handed, who were sat close by. Ms Moon says it's probably not the right time for me to play the chorus of 'Cry Me a River' by Justin Timberlake on my phone as the statutory penalty notice fines are being issued to perpetrators.

I'm in the clubhouse at Carlton Town's Stoke Lane ground by 2.15pm. Chairman, Mick Garton, is introducing former Notts and Leicestershire fast bowler, David Milnes to a standing room only audience. Milnes is now an international umpire, so he has a number of amusing and witty anecdotes. 

He was discovered in a 'Find a Fast Bowler' trial held at Trent Bridge on 12th June, 1984. The reason I know that date was because me and my mate Rick Heeley were there too. We watched the second half of the European Championship final between France and Spain in the Trent Bridge Squash Club after an unsuccessful trial. Richard Hadlee was the judge. He was particularly grumpy that evening. I ask Milnes who is the fastest bowler he has seen from his end. He replies that it would probably be Tymal Mills or Mark Wood.

I visit the club shop where birthday boy, Jon Hartstone, and Ken are manning the fort. I purchase a Millers beanie hat for £10. Manager Tommy Brookbanks will be looking for a reaction after last weekend's drubbing up at Ashington in the north east. Main striker Alex Hardwick is suspended after a stupid red card in that said game.

There's not much happening in the opening exchanges. The young Millers grow into the game, looking particularly strong down the left hand side where Durow and Hylton enjoy a good understanding. 'Casually Dan' spins some classic 45s at the break, including the 1984 hit 'Rip it Up' by Glaswegian post-punk band Orange Juice. Dan's daughter, 7 year old Lily, is still miffed with last weekend's lacklustre performance. It's a no show from Lily in the home end as she prefers to crayon-in her colouring book.

Blog favourite Edward has turned up all flustered after a busy morning of shopping, attending engagements and another fresh-look trim, styled by Alison up on Mapp Tops. He's also been clocked sneaking out of the sponsors lounge after ploughing his way through a large plate of sandwiches. He was joined by Dad, Jon, who is today's match sponsor.

Carlton turn up the heat in the second half. The all important first goal is fired home by captain Niall Davie. He puts the game to bed from the penalty spot after the excellent David Adegbola is upended in the box. Niall's mum, Lynn, says she is being 'greedy' in hoping her son can bag a hat-trick. He duly obliges with a neat header from another well taken corner. The icing on the cake is afterwards in the clubhouse when Davie pulls his father's number out in the 200 Club first prize draw. He can't half pick 'em.

Attendance: 155

Man of the Match: Niall Davie  

Gedling Miners Welfare 3-3 Radford FC

It's an early exit from the FA Cup for Lincoln City. They are well beaten by the Shrimpers from Morecambe. We troop out of Sincil Bank towards the railway station. Julian, the Morecambe fan, is grinning like a Cheshire cat, as his team will be in the hat for tomorrow's draw. Wycombe away is a poor reward. I probably won't ever speak to him again. He poses for a '2-1' photo on the train home before alighting the train with Dean Gripton at Lowdham Station. I wish Julian well, through gritted teeth.

It's Monday evening and I'm pouring a can of session craft ale from Azvex Brewery, who are based in Liverpool. I flick on the TV set and scroll through the channels. Tottenham Hotspur v Chelsea is the game of choice tonight. I stay gripped in my armchair for 111 minutes  as the teams play out a spine-tingling game of football. There are 25 shots, 5 disallowed goals, 7 bookings and 2 red cards. 

It's Tuesday evening and I've just finished the Dolly Parton eight hour shift at the shop. It's Euromillions day and I'm out on my feet, as I loiter at the bus stop on High Street, in Arnold town centre. The chuffing bus is late again. It's half an hour before another one rolls up.

I stand outside The Willowbrook pub, in Gedling, with Carlton Town official photographer Lou Lardi. A Skoda estate pulls up. It's DJ Murph, also known as 'Chief Wiggum' on the fans' WhatsApp group. Clubshop Ken completes the quartet.

We're driving out towards the village of Collingham, which lies on the edge of the Notts/Lincs border. The Mighty Millers are pitting their wits against Newark and Sherwood in the Notts Senior Cup. There's a drop-your-bacon-sandwich moment when 'Wiggum' confesses to being a big fan of the reality TV show I'm a Celeb, presented by those pair of Herberts, Ant 'n Dec. It knocks me for six to be honest. I try to concentrate on 'Bela Lugosi's Dead' by Bauhaus, that's playing on the car radio, whilst coming to terms with Murph's confession.

The chippy is mobbed with folk; most of whom wear the yellow and blue scarves of Carlton Town. The hard-working staff are rushed off their feet. There's the added pressure of the presence of famous fish and chip reviewer, Danny Bhoy. Fish is cooked to order and doesn't disappoint. The locals are miffed as queues snake out of the door.

It's £6 on the gate. I dive straight into the bar as temperatures plummet. It's good to see a couple of real ales on draught, including one from the Beermats stable who are located in Newark. 35-40 supporters have made the trip from Carlton. I clock a pasty-looking 'Casually Dan' who has recently returned from a three day drinking binge (his stag) in Budapest.

The Millers are in cruise control and coast to victory. The second goal is comedy gold. I'm walking out of the clubhouse with MSR colleague and friend, Kieran Harlow. I ask a guy if the score is still 1-0 as Alex Hardwick pulls the trigger, firing a shot like a tracer bullet into the roof of the net. Hardwick runs to the travelling support, to be met with a shower of steaming hot chocolate, topped with marshmallow, courtesy of 'Casually Dan.' It's a good night for Millers' commercial manager Gary Clarke and his dog Gizmo. They've won a tin of sweets in the raffle.

I love my days off and always put them to good use. I get good value from my Broadway Cinema membership. There's a matinee showing of Killers of the Flower Moon, the latest blockbuster from the American filmmaker, Martin Scorsese. Its running time is longer than the Spurs v Chelsea game. Actually it's 100 minutes longer than the said game. It starts and finishes in the blink of an eye. Robert De Niro gives a masterclass in how to be manipulative and cunning.

I've time to kill and a rumbling tummy. I stroll up Broad Street and turn through the doors of the award-winning, trendy eatery, Bohns Best Burgers. I hoover up a peanut butter jelly double smash patty burger, topped with Shropshire blue Stilton and pickled gherkins.

I wander up past my second home, the railway station. before crossing the tramline and heading up through the Meadows area of Nottingham. I'm meeting up with a few mates I haven't seen in a while. I'm not a big fan of the Waterside Bar, a stone's throw away from the 'World Famous City Ground.' It's owned by the Red Cat Company, whose CEO is ex Greene King. So imagine my surprise, on arrival, to be told there's no real ales on. Thankfully the company is better than the watering hole. 'The Mayor of Keyworth', 'Chopper Harris', 'Soup', 'Beef', 'Barthez' and 'Jenko.' are all on fine form.

We finish up in a 'Spoons called the Trent Bridge Inn, adjacent to the cricket ground, as it's the only pub still open. It's where I had my 21st birthday party, upstairs, back in 1985. Lincoln City played out a 0-0 draw, the following day, versus D***y County. I was literally spewing all day. I don't do 0-0s.

I rise early on Friday morning. I didn't arrive home until 12.30 am the previous evening. I'm back at the train station on Platform 1A where the 11.17 Northern service to Leeds is set to leave. Another day has been mapped out by Tony Mac. Today it's Chesterfield, the birthplace and final resting place of George Stephenson, renowned as the "Father of the Railways.

"We've already ticked off a couple of CAMRA entries in the town centre as we begin to head out to the famous 'Brampton Mile.' An eagle-eyed Mac spots Brampton Brewery. Not only do we receive a lovely, warm welcome from the lady behind the bar, but she also very kindly draws us out a map of the area with recommendations on the best pubs to visit.

We both agree on a 7.15 cut off time as we need to catch the train to Ilkeston as there is a CAMRA pub called The Dewdrop, a short walk from the station, that we've been dying to visit for ages. It's just our luck that on arrival we find that the pub is closed for cellar work. Stranded and nowhere near the town centre, we have no option other than to order an Uber into Nottingham.

I enjoy a lie-in on Saturday morning. I'm treating Ms Moon to lunch at Tamasha, on Mapperley Tops. It's an Asian fusion restaurant which serves delicious sizzling grilled food and speciality tapas. The staff are first-class and the food is high in quality. We have fishcakes, lamb chops and smoked garlic mushrooms.  

Dessert is the United Counties Division One League local derby between Gedling Miners Welfare and Radford FC. It's £5 on the gate. Radford FC 'Director of Football', Big Glenn Russell, isn't best pleased to see me. I'm greeted with "What are you doing here Jonah?" I promise to fire over £25 for a speaker's evening with Hull City legend Dean Windass, that's being held at the end of the month.

We observe a minute's silence for Remembrance Day. I think of my granddad. The game gets off to a flier with the visitors fortunate not to be behind after ten seconds. I try to do a quick circuit of the ground, but keep bumping into people that I know. Faggsy, Chris Widdowson, Roberto and Edward and John Hartstone are all in attendance.

Radford take the lead with a stunning goal from university student James Reynolds. The Miners quickly and deservedly equalise shortly after. On the stroke of half time Jevin Seaton hits a worldy strike from 25 yards out to put the visitors 2-1 up.

We're joined by The Hartstones and Faggsy for the second half. The game is overshadowed by Ms Moon and Edward constantly chinwagging about the TV soaps. I've a good mind to call the referee over so he can show them both a red card. Apparently the cafe in EastEnders has burnt down. It'll just be another fraudulent insurance claim for Ian Beale. Next time I'll bring them a copy each of the magazine Inside Soap from the shop, so they can both pore over it at half-time in the clubhouse.

On the pitch, two strikes by substitute Zac Hill have put Gedling MW 3-2 up. Radford have another goal in them. A free kick is expertly clipped into the box where it skims off the head of Conor Moore and into the roof of the net.It's been a pulsating game of football, with no quarter given. On reflection a draw is a fair result, although the Miners have twice hit the woodwork. 

The bush telegraph is reporting a 6-0 drubbing for Snowflake FC, dished out by the Keyworth United Green Army. A 16 year old kid, who plays for the badge, has bagged 4x goals. The seafood restaurants and champagne bars on The Avenue, in Bread 'n Lard Island, will be as quiet as a mouse this evening, as the senior team have also been defeated by bottom-placed Sandiacre Town. 

Attendance: 170 

Man of the Match: Robert De Niro

Credit photos: Steve McKeown and Nigel Harlow. Thank you.