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.
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