Dodworth MW 2-1 Jubilee Sports

Sunday lunchtime is spent in leafy, suburban West Bridgford. Ms Moon and I walk down the canal past Binks Yard where there’s a huge outside area for bands to perform to beer-fuelled football supporters and late night revellers.

I’ve had a family-run Italian restaurant on my radar for some time now. La Storia is on Musters Road, adjacent to what was an old cafe called McKays, where back in the day NFFC footballers used to congregate for a bacon sandwich prior to training. It was at this very cafe that my dad, a Daily Mirror news journalist, confronted Tricky Trees striker Nigel Jemson with allegations that Brian Clough had given the gobby striker a right-hander.

La Storia doesn’t disappoint. The pink sirloin of beef melts in your mouth. The portions aren’t oversized, nor the food stodgy. £70 for two courses, including a glass of wine and a service charge represents good value.

It’s Tuesday evening and I’ve just completed my sixth consecutive shift in a row at the shop. I haven’t the strength or inclination to knock up an award-winning tea. More pressing matters are at hand. The Mighty Millers can seal a promotion spot this evening.

I’m tucking into an Oceans ‘Fish Special’ for £5.20 when I clock Faggsy walking down Carlton Hill. There’s no music blaring out the Stadio del Stoke speaker system as we enter the ground. DJ Murph has technical issues, and he ain’t a happy chappy.

Dunston, from near Gateshead, have made the 272 mile-round trip this evening. Notable people from that area of the north-east include: Paul Gascoigne and AC/DC lead singer Brian Johnson. 

I stand with Faggs, Dean and Kev in the first half. The game has a lightning pace to it. The visitors take the lead through a rare faux-pas by crowd favourite net-minder ‘Felix the Cat.’ The versatile Khyle Sargent, playing in an unfamiliar 10 jacket role, scores a clever goal.

The play off spot is confirmed when it’s communicated by a tweet that Ponte Carlo have tonked Belper Town; a club that is in free fall, and who have signed more players than Eastwood CFC. Dunston beat the Millers 3-1. The result is irrelevant. One by one are subbed and rested in anticipation for the one off semi final up in the north- east next Tuesday. A game I won’t be at, as I’m on media duties for Mick McMurdoch (minding the shop .. lol) 3g innit.

It’s 5.30pm on Wednesday evening and I’m sat at a table in Lillie Langtry’s grazing over a Welbeck Abbey Porter real ale. The barman has just delivered the devastating news that Ms Moon’s favourite tipple, Strongbow cider, is discontinued on the beer list.

She’s smiling like a Cheshire cat as she enters the pub. The good lady doesn’t take the ‘breaking news' very well - I ask one of the bar staff for a mop and bucket as she cries me a river of tears whilst Northampton goth band Bauhaus are on the jukebox shuffle. Desperate times force desperate measures. To keep her sweet we have a wander up to a 'Spoons on St James's Street called The Roebuck. 'Bow apple juice is poured and comes in a damn sight cheaper than Lillie's - every cloud and all that.

I'm always looking for recommendations of eateries in Nottingham city centre. The Italian owner of the Hungry Pumpkin has tipped me the wink of a pizzeria on High Pavement, which, as a road, has a reputation of a graveyard for hospitality over the years, with many places biting the dust.

It's a street that I love due to its wonderful architecture such as the Chapel, that's now Pitcher and Piano, and the Galleries of Justice. Most of its buildings are listed. Back in the Georgian era it was one of the most fashionable areas to live in.

Pizzamisu is a cool place. It's full to the brim on pay day eve. We both enjoy a quality, perfectly cooked pizza, although I wish I'd gone for a spicier one. The service is speedy, but the staff ain't cheery. Perhaps it's because they are rushed off their feet.

It's Friday evening and I'm slumped in my armchair. I've clocked up 53 hours this week in the part-time job I started just shy of a year ago. I've only had five jobs in my 45 year old career, this hands-down is easily the best and most rewarding. I get paid to talk about football, cricket, ales, the weather and soaps on TV. I love every minute of it.

I listen to the Huw Stephens show on 6 Music before switching over to Five Live's Friday Night Social which is hosted by Darren Fletcher. 'Fletch' is a born and bred Nottingham lad. He's a brilliant presenter and superb on the comms, particularly on Champions League nights. I remember him breezing into Notts County as a director when crackpot owner 'Little Alan' Hardy bought the club. His association with the Pies was a brief one, as he fell out with Hardy, like most folk do.

It's 9.30 a.m. on Saturday morning and I'm already tucking into a bacon sandwich at The Avenues cafe on Sneinton Market. I'm excited for the day ahead as I feel I've not had a proper groundhopping day out on my 'Jack Jones' in a long time.

I catch the 'Cattle Market' 10.17 Northern Train to Barnsley. Oakwell isn't where I'll be today, though. Mr and Mrs Matt Limon are on the train. They're on the sauce in Sheffield all day. There are some Plod knocking about the station as a few visiting Northampton Town fans alight the train with me. My connecting train to Huddersfield is stopping at the old pit village of Dodworth.

Just the two of us leave the train in Dodworth. A bearded, elderly guy, with a rucksack on his back, asks in a southern accent if I know where High Street is. His name is Gerry and he is a groundhopper from Southampton. It's a drop your bacon sandwich moment when he reveals that he has made the 460 mile round trip from Eastleigh to watch this Step 7 game between Dodworth and Jubilee Sports.

I go for a wander first around the village. There is a stunning War Memorial and a colliery winding wheel on the main drag. I discovered on google (4.5) that there's a must-visit fish 'n chip shop called Shaws on the Barnsley Road. They are already queuing out of the door on my arrival - a key indicator of what's to come.

The fish has landed from Icelandic waters and the spuds are from Fox Farm in Penistone, where the Manchester City defender John Stones is from. I hoover up cod and chips in no time. I join Gerry for a drink at the Dodworth Tap, which is a warm and cosy pub with a very friendly landlord. Gerry is keen to tick off a second pub called Thornley Arms. It's not a bad pint of Timothy Taylors. 

The Miners' Welfare is literally just around the corner. It has two immaculate bowling greens as well as a number of football pitches. There's no admission fee; I'd have happily parted with a few quid. The old stand with its black-painted crash barriers is drop dead gorgeous.

Nothing is at stake in today's game, although you wouldn't have thought so. After 60 seconds the ref pulls two players telling them any more and they're off. The No.2 for Jubilee hasn't read the room. He jumps in like the martial arts actor Jackie Chan. A huge melee ensues - they don't do handbags in South Yorkshire. 'Jackie' is shown a straight Red. The game is only three minutes old. Gerry has missed it all, he's been to the loo.

The kick off has changed from 2 pm to 3 pm in the last 48 hours. This has messed with my advance train ticket. Dodworth edge the game 2-1, but by then I'm long gone after a thoroughly enjoyable day out.

Attendance: 25 (head count)

Man of the Match: Gerry and Dodworth 7 jacket.

Carlton Town 2-1 Consett AFC

I'm walking on the backstreets of Barnsley, towards the town centre. I'm with Dean Gripton, from Football Manager, who has treated me to a smashing afternoon out. We've witnessed a thrilling, end to end 'Desmond Tutu' between the promotion-chasing Tykes and the Royals of Reading.

Due to a late running Northern train there's no time for a quick beverage at the Grade II listed Sheffield Tap, which is also a CAMRA Heritage entry. We are entertained by some sozzled Nottingham Trent University student football fans, who have sat in the away end all afternoon, with a mate who is from Reading.

We finish the evening up at the Brew Tavern micropub where they've just put fresh on an 8.4% Double India Pale ale called Dyson Sphere, from Azvez, who brew their beer on the old docks in Liverpool. They are owned by a guy who was involved at Neon Raptor, in Sneinton Market. He's even headhunted the head brewer from Rap Tap. I could drink their ales all night, but would probably end up windmilling with a Deliveroo cyclist or a nasty Tory MP. It's just the one, and lights out, when I return home to HQ.

It's the Blue Monday of all Mondays. It's the 35th anniversary of the Hillsborough Disaster, a game my  close mates and I attended on 15th April 1989. I remember sun-kissed skies and a journey full of hope as we travelled up the M1 northbound towards Sheffield. 

For some unknown reason, and it has stayed with me to this day, I always like to arrive at a match at least an hour before kick-off. Fuelled with beer is not my bag. We were all standing on the terraces, leaning on a blue-painted crash barrier by 1.45pm. I recollect, as kick off nearened, that we all remarked that the central pens had fans packed in like sardines, whilst the wing terraces had a small smattering of fans.

There looked to be a surge forward in the middle pens when Liverpool hit the crossbar in the opening minutes. The rest is history. I was reminded of this by a podcast put together by BBC Radio Nottingham's Sarah Julian, which is called Hillsborough Unheard: Nottingham Forest Fans. It's a heartbreaking diary of that day from a NFFC perspective. I'm so proud of my two mates who have opened up and reached out during this broadcast. I met them through the Hillsborough Survivors' Association, when we raised £3,000 on a 22 mile charity walk around some of the landmarks in Liverpool.

South Yorkshire Police, the incompetent Chief Superintendent, David Duckenfield, Sheffield Wednesday Football Club (no safety certificate), The FA, Margaret Thatcher and that pompous, arrogant weasel Colin Moynihan (4th Baron  .. wtf does that mean?) are all accountable for what happened that day, as had the correct safety measures been put in place, then this would never have happened. As for The Sun ....

It's Tuesday evening and I've just finished a 7.30am - 5pm shift at MSR Newsagents in Arnold. There's time for a quick change of clothing before pegging it down to Stadio El Stokeld for the Millers latest fixture versus Ossett United from West Yorkshire. I swing by Oceans for a chippy tea. I've hoovered it up and washed it down as I squeeze through the turnstile during a deep breath.

It's the usual drill: indie music is blasting out from the clubhouse, and 'Day Tripper' craft ale from Sneinton brewery Liquid Light, is still being poured from the bar, after the success of the Bitcoin Festival. The usual ensemble of characters are in attendance. I stand with the father of rock steady stalwart Millers' defender Dan Brown. Malc Brown is a fountain of football knowledge, particularly the Non League scene. He kicks every ball and goes through the many emotions that come over you as a parent, when your lad is a pivotal part of a team.

The Millers blow Ossett away in the first half. Forwards Nat Watson and Lamin Manneh are untouchable. Having said that, Carlton are in debt to the brilliance of 'Felix the Cat' in the nets. I'm keeping one eye on Lincoln City's late play-off challenge in League One. I do a little fist-pump on exiting the ground when I see that the Imps have won 1-0 to rivals Oxford United. Securing a play off spot could soon be in their hands.

I'm working all week, so there's no afternoon matinee at Cineworld or Broadway in Hockley. To be honest I'm still having sleepless nights after viewing Monkey Man the other week. I've never seen so much bloodshed since my burst main artery in 1985.

The backlog of fixtures and fatigue finally catch up with the Mighty Millers on Thursday evening; ironically the game versus Liversedge is played at Ossett United's ground by order of the FA. I can't leave the shop until 5 pm, so I thought there was 'Bob Hope' of me getting up to Yorkshire in time for kick off. 

Carlton Town committee board member, Kelly Marie, is leaving for the game at 5.30 pm. I jump into an UBER outside Istanbul Turkish Restaurant on High Street, Arnold. For a change it's hosing it down with rain as we make the short journey through the old mining village of Calverton towards the meeting point which is the Springwater Chinese Restaurant. Kelly is running a wee bit late with family logistics to juggle.

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I sit in the back of the car with Kelly's 12 year old son Dexter. Kelly's mum, Elaine, is in the front of the vehicle as we cross the border and enter the Republic of South Yorkshire. We discuss a number of subjects on the journey oop north including: good cinema films, murder documentaries and our favourite restaurants. Time passes by quickly, and we're soon parking up outside a butcher's shop adjacent to the ground.

It's £10 on the gate. I buy a couple of 50/50 tickets and a chip cob which isn't the best at £4. The music is mainly Northern Soul and Motown, which is pleasing on the ear. The weather is filthy wet with a swirling wind. I stand with the Carlton posse behind the goal. I'm with the club's commercial manager Gary Clarke whose tireless fundraising efforts are appreciated and supported by the club.

Carlton take the lead through an own goal from a corner. Liversedge are always a threat. It's only due to the heroics of 'Felix the Cat' that the Millers hang on to a slender half-time lead. The equaliser is well deserved and has been coming. It arrives on 69 minutes. Alex Hardwick has looked in good touch for the Millers this evening. He sees an effort smack off the underside of the bar. It's heartbreak on 85 minutes when a sensational strike from Jack Carr gives 'Sedge' all three points. It's just a bump in the road for our lads. It doesn't dampen our enthusiasm or mood on the drive home. Thanks for driving Kelly.

I'm dog tired on Saturday. This working malarkey is stifling my social life. I'm away from work for midday after an early start marking up the papers with my good mate 'Chippy Fryer.' There's a quick turnaround at Chez Palms. The Southwell 26 bus lets me down AGAIN, so I end up taking a half an hour stroll to the ground.

It's the same drill, but word up is that the well is about to run dry on the 'Day Tripper' ale front. Further bad news from the Bush Telegraph is that star man Lamin Manneh is missing from today's line up. I grab a chat with the Consett 'keeper, on my walk around the ground. He says they've only brought 12 men with them, and that the sub is a 'keeper. Add to that, their manager is playing up top and is in his mid 40s.

I stand with Malc and Mark, whose daughter is the girlfriend of Khyle Sargent, who once again is taking one for the team by playing out of position. It's a sluggish start by the Millers, but no blame is attached. These lads, ladies and staff all have full time jobs. All have gone above and beyond for the badge in recent weeks - and I include the likes of staunch volunteers such as Alan Murphy, Jonny Hand, Clubshop Ken, Jon Hartstone Nigel Harlow, Big Joe and Casually Dan  - all in it for the love of the game and club; not the money. Folk have, in recent weeks, given up time to fork the sodden turf and wheelbarrow tons of sand, to make the surface playable (Adam and Kris, amazing work). Apologies if I've forgotten to mention you.

'Felix the Cat' is at it again. He makes a worldie save that defies belief that has me rubbing my eyes, as if awakening from a dream. Niall Hylton and Alex Hardwick are excellent again. They bag two goals to settle OUR nerves. 

'Casually Dan' spins Pretty Girls Make Graves by The Smiths at the break. It's about the pressures of early sexual encounters in Morrissey's teenage years - it takes my mind off 'The Lincoln's' big game at Cheltenham, where it's one a piece.

Consett's manager is fagged out. The sub 'keeper is sent up front. I admire him for making the trip and not throwing a sickie like one or two probably have. Consett reward their loyal following with a goal that puts the Millers' faithful on edge. There's a nerve jangling, nail-biting ten minutes before the final whistle. There are ugly scenes close to us - apparently you can't say handbags anymore. A visiting player is shown a straight red. A shame that, as the ref has managed the game well.

Man of the Match: Hylton on Sat and 'Felix on Thursday

Attendance: 384

Barnsley 2-2 Reading

A church is striking nine bells on Sunday morning as I exit MSR Newsagents on Front Street, in Arnold, after a four hour shift. I jump on the number 58, green Nottingham City Transport bus, that travels through Daybrook, up and over Sherwood, before heading up Mansfield Road into the city centre.

Street cleaners sweep up the roads and pavements; collecting up litter after another heavy night for revellers in our fair city. There's not many folk knocking about as I head across Market Square and drop down into hipster Hockley - Nottingham's Creative Quarter. It's my second outing at Bear, a coffee house and eatery. It's criminal that it only scores an average of 3.6 on Google reviews. Service is speedy and the snap (full English) is spot on.

It's day three of the County Championship fixture between Notts and Essex, with the game finely balanced. The weather is bracing. A stiff breeze chases me down Carrington Street and up through the inner city Meadows area of Nottingham, where a plethora of professional footballers have been discovered.

I sit in the Lower Radcliffe Road end of Trent Bridge Cricket Ground with Faggsy and Neil. I've seriously under clubbed on the clothing front, opting for a fleece instead of a Superdry snug-as-a-bug jacket. Two hours of play is enough for me. I peg it back into town during the lunch break, stopping briefly at the Brew Tavern micropub that's adjacent to Nottingham railway station. I sink a half pint of craft ale from the wonderful Gravity Well Brewery, who are based in London. I spend the rest of the afternoon knocking up another blog whilst catching up on some archive Radcliffe and Maconie shows on the 6Music website.

It's Tuesday evening and the same drill of late, as the Mighty Millers catch up on a backlog of matches that are mounting up for many Northern Premier League teams, after a wet and soggy season. I meet up with Faggsy outside the Nags Head at the bottom of Carlton Hill. We make the half an hour walk to Stadio El Stokio which is closer to the village of Stoke Bardolph than it is to Carlton.

Hebburn (remember the TV show?) from the north east, have made the 300 mile round midweek trip - they've brought a few supporters with them too. There are a few round pegs going into square holes for Carlton. They miss the bite and tenacity of Khyle Sargent in midfield. He fills in for Dean Freeman at centre half, who is feeling a tight hamstring. The Millers also play without what you'd call an out and out striker.

32 year old former Notts County midfielder, Liam Noble, is pulling all the strings. He was more well known at Meadow Lane for the red mist descending and gobbing off on twitter, than for any football prowess. The League's leading goalscorer Amar Purewal scores his 23rd goal of the season to give the visitors the lead.

DJ 'Casually Dan' has put together another fantastic set. We've already heard 'Start' by The Jam and 'Nothing Lasts Forever' by legendary Liverpool band Echo and the Bunnymen. The best, however, is left until the half time break. Dan plays 'Some Girls Are Bigger Than Others.' I love the fade in and fade out at the start of the tune. It's a jolly song with Marr's jangling guitar and Morrissey's outlandish lyrics. 

Cheered up by The Smiths - how many can say that? I return to my spot on the far side of the ground, opposite the clubhouse. Motivated by Morrissey the Millers restore parity through an own goal after a wicked corner is whipped in. The visitors push on to deservedly win the game 3-1. You can't question Carlton's heart or spirit though. It's there in abundance.

Wednesday is the beginning of four days off for me, and I've planned plenty of outings. Ms Moon is working all day, but her daughter Becky isn't. She has been banging on about a film called Monkey Man that is plastered on a few billboards around town. I arrange to meet her at Cineworld, in the Cornerhouse complex.

I grab a baguette from Pret A Manger and some jelly beans from MSR on Angel Row - I'm not chuffing paying inflated prices in the cinema. It's a mad two hour viewing. The hero in our film is like the 'Indian James Bond.' He throws more punches in 120 minutes than Tyson Fury has in his whole career. It's a violent, brutal, bloodthirsty action-packed thriller. Not particularly my bag, but nonetheless it's entertaining. We retire to Six Barrels for a couple of scoops.

I'm down Sneinton Market by 7.30 am on Friday morning. It's a full on greasy spoon breakfast with Tony Mac at the underrated Avenues Cafe, £6.50, including a mug of tea, is a steal. Cross Country trains try their best to muck up our day. The blithering idiots called a strike off 24 hours earlier, but it looks like some Herbert has signed off too many holiday requests from the 'underpaid' drivers. Because two previous trains were cancelled due to 'driver shortage' we're packed in like sardines on a later train from Sheffield to York.

York is always bustling with folk, whatever time of year it is. I felt it best to work our way out of the city centre as you don't want to be drinking in a large group once the after work mob rock up. We visit a mixture of craft ale and real ale houses. The last two or three pubs are just outside the City Walls. We're back in Nottingham for 10 pm, where we retire to Brew Tavern for a 14% Vault City nightcap.

There's no rest for the wicked on Saturday morning. It's a pot of tea for one accompanied by a bacon sarnie covered in Cambozola cheese. I'm loitering around the station in plenty of time for the 10.15 train to Barnsley.

I've met a fantastic group of supporters at Carlton Town in my last few seasons of going down there. We go to gigs and pubs as well as following the Mighty Millers. Dean Gripton is a big Carlton Town and Birmingham City fan. He is also Head of EFL Research for Football Manager. It's a role he has held for over 20 years. He also has worked for Sky on Soccer Saturday, where he supplied all the vital stats into an earpiece for Jeff Stelling during the show.

The plan was for Dean and I to go and watch Crewe Alexandra play Grimsby Town at Gresty Road. Cross Country's so-called strike and trackwork maintenance put paid to that. Barnsley v Reading was our second choice. Add to that, there are a few pubs I still need to tick off in the town centre.

Barnsley has a population of 95,000 and is famous for its coal-mining, glass-making and brass bands. In 2015, 68% of its voters chose to 'Leave' the European Union. Notable people from the town include: Harold 'Dickie Bird', Mark Crossley, Michael Parkinson, the author of Kes, Barry Hines, Mark Jones and Tommy Taylor who both perished in the 'Munich Air Disaster' and Big Mick McCarthy.

A lot of money has been thrown at redeveloping the town centre, and what a mighty fine job they've done too. We admire the architecture of the Town Hall and War Memorial before spending some time in the Experience Barnsley Museum which is free entry.

It's fascinating to read up about the history of the place you are about to watch football in. The coal mines play a massive part in the town's heritage. In 1866 two explosions at Barnsley Oaks pit killed 361 miners and rescuers. There is plenty of archive information and memorabilia from the year long Miners' Strike in 1984.

We tick off a couple of independent pubs that are in the Good Beer Guide called Jolly Tap and Heaven and Ale. We also call by a local cafe for meat and potato pie covered in mushy peas which is accompanied by mint sauce. We arrive at Oakwell half an hour before kick off.

I came here last season when I saw Lincoln City play the Tykes off the park. They are in a solid play-off spot, but have wobbled of late. We go into a room where all the scouts gather. Legendary English cricket umpire Dickie Bird is stood alone. Dean says I should introduce myself and ask if it's ok for a photo. It's not my usual style, and it makes me feel uncomfortable. Dickie is quick to engage in conversation. He chuckles when he tells me it's his 91st birthday next week.

We take a seat in the wonderful old stand, with its wooden seats and bird's eye view. Dickie sits alone two seats away. I feel sad for him that he has no companion to chat with during the game. Reading, after a traumatic season with ownership issues and a points deduction, are all but safe after a midweek 2-0 away victory at Bristol Rovers.

The game has a lovely ebb and flow about it from the off. The Royals deservedly take the lead through star striker Sam Smith (I hope he doesn't sing at half-time).The Tykes equalise through Phillips after a sublime dink from McAtee. Dickie says he's off for a cup of Yorkshire Tea. We join him, The TV set is switched on so we can all watch the Grand National together. Ms Moon is on the money and I have 2nd and 3rd placed horses at high odds.

The second half is superb. There are 31 shots in total. Reading take the lead with a pearler from 25 yards out by Lewis Wing, who started his career at Non League Shildon up in the north east of England. Barnsley equalise through substitute Fabio Jalo. It's been a breathtaking game of football with both teams giving their all.

Attendance: 12,405

Men of the Match: Dickie Bird and Dean Gripton

Nottingham Forest 3-1 Fulham

It's Good Friday and I'm packing away the Easter Egg stall outside the MSR shop front in Arnold, after a successful day's trading. I jump on the 58 bus which I alight on Upper Parliament Street in the heart of Nottingham City Centre. I peg it up Derby Road towards the Canning Circus area of town. It's named after a former 19th Century politician called George Canning, who was a reformist and anti-slave trade. He would later become Prime Minister for the final 119 days of his life.

Tony Mac is propping the bar up at the Organ Grinder, whilst necking a brew from the Blue Monkey stable. We have a couple more scoops before calling by: Good Fellow George, Sir John Borlase Warren and finally the Barrel Drop on Hurt's Yard. At just past 7 pm we squeeze through a tight passageway called Newcastle Chambers. The Chameleon Arts Cafe is an iconic and intimate music venue which is sadly set to close down tomorrow evening.

There's a wee indie underground music scene bubbling and emerging in Nottingham. Expectations have been set high for local Goth/Post-Punk band Bloodworm who we've seen a few times. Think of the haunting voice of Bauhaus's Pete Murphy together with the guitar on The Cure's third album Faith and you won't be far away. They up their game this evening, compared to previous viewings. Marvin's Revenge, a three-piece band from Arnold, finish up the night for Mac and I, with a blistering half hour set.

I knock off work at 2pm on Saturday and catch a 25 bus up to Mapperley Tops. Ms Moon meets me as she travels from the opposite direction. The good lady is 'Hank Marvin', so she dives into Birds Bakery. I decline her kind offer of food as I'm still stuffed from a bacon and sausage baguette from Arnold award-winning butcher, A E Chambers.

Gedling Miners' Welfare, Plains Road ground is a short ten minute walk away. We watch a cracking game of football in the company of Faggsy and Jon Gilbert, who is a mate of mine and an old school friend of Ms Moon's. Jon's lad, Johnny, is playing defensive midfield for the Miners today. He appears to be a great prospect as he looks to work his way up the Non League football pyramid. We have a couple of drinks in the poshest 'Spoons in Notts before I retire early to bed, after getting mardy following a thrashing by Ms Moon on Lee Mack's 1% Club.

I often have to gee myself up for marking the Sunday papers at the ridiculous god-forsaken time of 5 a.m. It's hardly helped by the clocks moving forward an hour. I bang on a classic album by The Stranglers which includes some great tracks such as: All Quiet on the Eastern Front and Nice 'n Sleazy. There's a brilliant cover version of Dionne Warwick's 'Walk on By' which was written for her by Burt Bacharach in 1963. Jean-Jacques Burnell's bass guitar makes my heart beat ten to the dozen.

I grab an hour's kip back at Chez Palms before heading back into the city centre. I've booked us in for Sunday lunch at the highly-rated Fothergills bistro-style restaurant opposite Nottingham Castle. It's a first outing here for both of us. We're seated upstairs; there's already a hustle and bustle about the place. We both mop up slow-roasted lamb shank. I wash mine down with a house white wine from Portugal. We walk off the meal around the Park Estate with its swanky housing and private tennis courts. We both agree that we'll buy a house here when we win the lottery ..lol.

I'm down at El Stadio Stokeld on Easter Monday afternoon. Confidence is high in the Millers camp after they stunned a four figure crowd at league leaders Stockton Town, two days previously, with a shock 2-0 win. Margaret Thatcher's Grantham Town are today's visitors. They are scrapping for their lives in the nether regions of the Northern Premier East League.

The Millers take the lead and also have another effort chalked off by the officials. Nat Watson appears to have put the game to bed. But a late rally by the Gingerbreads sees Carlton hanging on for dear life. With plenty of games in hand, along with a relatively injury-free squad, with no suspensions, it's in the Millers hands to claim a play-off spot, which is a miracle after last season's soap opera.

I'm down the banks of the Trent on Tuesday evening for the first time since NFFC fortuitously drew with Burnley 1-1 back in September. I sit with a mate from Carlton called Johnny and his Forest mad family. Fulham look like they've packed their bucket and spades, ready for the summer holidays. On 33 minutes, and already 2-0 down, a seething Marco Silva makes a triple substitution. Former D***y County loanee Harry Wilson is one of those players who is hooked. The partizan Forest faithful all give him the bird.

Gibbs-White and the impressive Brazilian, Danilo, have ran the Cottagers ragged. It's 3-0 at the break and there appears to be little hope for the Londoners. A chink of light appears when they claw back an early goal in the second half. 35 year old Brazilian, Willian, is running the show with a series of dangerous corners and whipped in crosses. The woodwork is NFFC's saviour, although it has to be said that Forest are also wasteful in front of goal. I toss and turn a little at night in bed as my brain can't shake off what a brilliant game of ball I've just seen. Thanks for the ticket Johnny.

I've worked my socks off all week at the shop as I've been covering for one of the lads who has gone on holiday. I meet Ms Moon for a few drinks in our favourite couples pub, Lillie Langtrys. A member of the bar staff has a tight grip on the Spotify track-listing. Billy Nomates, The Charlatans and Psycho Killer by Talking Heads are the pick of the bunch.

I'm bright and breezy on Saturday morning. I hoover up a big bowl of porridge before meeting Faggsy on the corner of Lancaster Road on Carlton Hill. I'm super excited for the day ahead. It doesn't get any better than cricket and football on the same day.

After a cup of coffee, courtesy of Faggsy, in the Barrel and Bean, we take our seats in the Lower Radcliffe Road. I sit for an hour with Drurs, Horsy and Bagpuss who has travelled over from Oxfordshire to see his mum and also take in Ilkeston v Atherton Collieries. I raise my eyebrows and curl my lip as that once mighty fine playing surface is sadly now 3G, at the New Manor Ground. Other discussions include racing tips and haselet.

I leave the ground with Joe Clarke looking in good nick. I show a turn of pace as I walk through the Meadows, past the railway station and along Canal Street. I push open the front door of Castle Rock's Newshouse. Crazy Steve is holding court with a number of Pies' fans including blog legend Mr John Harris. Wife Jackie is a non-attendee as she is down the Smoke watching Sheridan Smith in a West End show.

I lose track of time as we're that busy gassing. I end up ordering an UBER to get me down to El Stadio Stokio in time for kick off. The place is mobbed out with Bitcoiners as they have put a festival on. They are a valuable and loyal sponsor of the Club. A craft ale from Liquid Light, called Day Tripper is available on tap. It's an absolute belter and well worth the £4,50 outlay per pint.

A swirling 40 mph gale is spoiling the game. The Millers struggle to get out of their own half. I'm unaware that Dean Freeman, who is pivotal to this team, has come off injured. I was grabbing a second pint of the lush Liquid Light when the substitution was made. Jon Gilbert is here again. Tagging along with him is Keyworth legend Chris Frame, who can drink like a fish. We watch the game together and enjoy some craic. Framey is on fetching and carrying duty from a busy clubhouse. Jon is already double-parked before half time as 'Framey' turns up the heat in the drinking stakes.

DJ Murph's half time set is aligned with the Bitcoin Festival Day. 'Cash Machine' by Hard Fi and 'Working for the Yankee Dollar' by The Skids both get an airing.

Carlton's confidence is sky high in the second half with the stiff breeze at their backs, They take the lead through Niall Davie after a pinpoint corner puts the 'keeper under pressure. Once again the Millers are in debt to 'keeper 'Felix the Cat' for some crucial saves. Alex Hardwick hammers home the final nail in the coffin from the penalty spot after a dubious penalty award.

Man of the Match: Danilo