Derby County 1-1 Plymouth Argyle

The diary for November is full to the brim. December will be dedicated to the shop as business ramps up for the Christmas period. Midweek football is thin on the ground at this time of year. Local teams take a breather from their heavy schedules. The early rounds of the Notts Senior Cup take place. I saw Carlton Town exit the competition in the first round to an impressive Sherwood Colliery. The Millers can count themselves unlucky, but once again they failed to take their chances. Their current form is a cause for concern.

It's Thursday evening and pitch black dark. I'm wandering through The Avenues, in Sneinton Market. Neon Raptor would be my usual port of call - but not this evening. A guy called Paddy Sneath, who I know from Keyworth United, has opened a pizza restaurant called Working Man's Kitchen in the old market place. It's well known for its 'world famous' Pizza Dog, which sells well in the fan zone at The City Ground. I wolf down a pepperoni pizza that's dripping in mouth-watering hot honey - it's delicious folks. You should try his 'half price Thursdays.' 

The rest of the evening is spent in the Derek Randall Suite, at Trent Bridge Cricket Ground, listening to Clive Rice's biographer, Tim Crow, giving a talk about the amazing life of the South African all-rounder. I remember my Dad, Frank, tipping us the wink that Rice was to be sacked by Notts for joining the Kerry Packer World Series League in 1978. I caught a Barton's bus with my mate Keebo, from Keyworth to the ground, straight after school. We arrived just as Rice was packing his belongings into his car. Bless him, he still signed autographs. He was reinstated by the Club a week later, and was joined by new signing, a Kiwi called Richard Hadlee. It was the beginning of a formidable partnership and a fantastic era to be part of as a Notts supporter.

Friday is spent in the Warwickshire town of Rugby. Tony Mac and I take a stroll up to Rugby School, where outside there's a statue of William Webb-Ellis, who has been credited as the inventor of the game of rugby. I've never been to a Rugby Union game; only a Rugby League cup tie at Craven Park, in the city of Hull. We tick off five Good Pub Guide entries and a Heritage Pub in the quaint coaching town of Atherstone before returning home to Nottingham from Tamworth.

It's Saturday lunchtime and I'm hanging around the foyer inside Nottingham Railway Station, waiting for Football Manager's Head of EFL Research, Dean Gripton, who is grabbing a late breakfast in Sneinton, following a heavy night in Hockley after watching 80s indie band Spizzenergi at Rough Trade.

We make the short trip to Derby. It's a 15 minute walk to the ground. Wayne Rooney's (as they say) Plymouth's Argyle are in town. There is an immaculately observed minute's silence before the game as tomorrow is Remembrance Sunday. Rooney receives a warm welcome from the Rams' faithful, who appreciate the fine job he did under trying circumstances.

Derby take an early lead through an acrobatic overhead kick by their forward, Jerry Yates. Argyle are awful and give little to cheer up their fans who have made the 480 mile round trip. It's a miracle that their only shot on target, a deflected free kick, somehow loops over the 'keeper and nestles in the bottom of the net.

The Rams can't force a winner, and aren't particularly impressive either. It looks like a season of consolidation, which fans in the Exeter Arms, post-match, say they will settle for. Cotgrave-born midfielder, Liam Thompson, is their stand-out performer. He covers every blade of grass and has the heart the size of a bucket. He's definitely one to keep an eye on, as another youngster rolls off the DCFC Academy conveyor belt. He was signed up from Dunkirk FC. Upo's and Harby's old stomping ground.

Shiver me timbers, the railway station ain't half busy the following day, as it's matchday at The City Ground. Another inept train operating company. Cross Country Trains, can't dampen our day by cancelling trains due to a 'crew shortage,' Tony Mac and I are settled in the Black Eagle heritage pub, in Hockley, Birmingham by 3.30pm.

The city centre is a piece of cake to circumnavigate by UBER or on foot on a quiet Sunday afternoon. The Barton Arms and Old Moseley Arms are stunning pubs to tick off. Tonight we are here to see Irish post punk band Gurriers, having been caught out the wrong side of town, when they played in Nottingham, at the Dot to Dot Festival back in May. The gig is at an iconic venue called Hare and Hounds in the King's Heath area of the city. It's a sell out and the band blow the house down.

We're gigging again on Tuesday evening. I'm still exhausted after the weekend, but summon up the energy and drive to get myself to the cosy Barrel Drop micropub on Hurts Yard. Fat Dog, a boisterous post-punk band from London, are on stage at Rescue Rooms tonight - they've recently been named as one of the Artists of the Year by BBC 6Music. We know what to expect, as Mac and I saw them at The Level, part of NTU, at Dot to Dot, back in 2023. They don't disappoint. It's bedlam in the mosh pit as we view the ensuing chaos from the balcony.

I'm picked up outside Laguna curry house, in Nottingham city centre at 7.30 on Friday morning by Crazy Steve. It's a restaurant I'll be eating at in a week's time when we're booked in for the Keyworth Dream League Christmas Party.

We rendezvous at Little Al's house, in West Bridgford, where we jump into Cotgrave Trev's car. Two hours later we're on a tube from Canons Park, destination is Southfields, near to Wimbledon. We walk through Wimbledon Common before turning into Putney Vale Cemetery and Crematorium.

The lads tick off six Victoria Cross winners who are laid to rest here. I had hoped to find a memorial plaque on a tree, in memory of James Beck (Private Walker) off Dad's Army. It's like finding a needle in a haystack. We do manage to track down the final resting places of 'General Erich Von Klinkerhoffen' from the comedy series Allo Allo, Roy Plomley, host of Desert Island Discs, Greg Lake, and Howard Carter, the archaeologist, who discovered the tomb of Tutankhamun. 

There's high jinks and laughter as we tick off four heritage pubs in Wandsworth, Waterloo and Clapham Junction. We meet an England Under 18 Lacrosse player who is travelling up to Stockport to play in a game tomorrow. We pepper him with loads of questions. He's hoping to be at Nottingham Uni next year. We dine at Melissa, a Turkish restaurant in Edgware, before the drive home. Thank you Cotgrave Trev!

Ms Moon and I have lunch up on Mapperley Top on Saturday at Alora, a small plate tapas restaurant. The head chef has cooked for Gordon Ramsay and Tom Kerridge, as well as being executive head chef at World Service, in Nottingham, for five years. The Korean sticky chicken and pork belly melt in the mouth.

We have a wander around the charity shops, trying to sniff out a bargain, before the short journey up the road to Gedling Miners Welfare. It's £6 on the gate. The skies are already darkening as the players emerge from the changing rooms. Plains Road must be one of the highest points in the county. It's always advisable to wear an extra layer.

Faggsy is up here. Retford, who are tied for third spot with GMW, take an early lead with a deflected shot from outside the box which deceives the 'keeper. The Miners' Felix Hogg is shown a straight Red card for an off the ball incident shortly before half time.

A shivering Ms Moon nips across the road at half time for a coffee with her bestie, Jill. Faggsy and I chat to a couple of friendly, knowledgeable supporters from Retford in the clubhouse. Josh Thornton is like a man possessed and outstanding for Gedling in the second half. He has boundless energy and reads the game so well. Miners hang in there until the fifth minute of injury time when the visitors finally put the game to bed.

Attendance: 197 - great support from Retford

Man of the Match: Josh Thornton

Crewe Alexandra 0-1 Dagenham and Redbridge

It's been a very, quiet, peaceful week, as I catch my breath. I've lounged around in my armchair, like Jim Royle, reading, researching and listening to 6 Music. The reason for chillin' is that from this Monday coming I'm returning to full time 'work' for three months, whilst shop manager, 'Chippy Fryer' convalesces after a knee replacement operation. Midweek train journeys, cinema visits and teatime scoops are to be put on hold, for now.

I walk down to Stoke Lane, on Tuesday evening, with Notts County fan, Faggsy, as the Mighty Millers are taking on Ashington FC (the birthplace of the Charlton brothers) who make the 300 mile round trip from the north east. I've already had a sneak preview of DJ Murph's playlist. He'll be spinning some classics such as: One Hundred Years, a track from The Cure's 1982 album Pornography, and Joy Division, She's Lost Control. 

Attendances are on the up at Carlton Town. They have broken the 200 barrier on each outing this season. It's no mean feat for a club that has its challenges regarding the isolated location of the Bill Stokeld Stadium. It's set adrift from the town of Carlton itself. It sits closer to Netherfield and the charming village of Stoke Bardolph, where I have enjoyed many an after match pint at the Ferry Boat Inn after a fiercely fought game of cricket in my youth. Had the Millers been positioned on top of Carlton Hill, in the hub of the community, crowds could have easily exceeded 400. Both teams get the ball down and try to play, but neither can breach stubborn defences that are built like brick walls.

A final pass or a decent delivery at a dead ball set piece is lacking. Ollie Clark fluffs his lines when his penalty kick is saved in the dying embers of the game. I'm sad to report (fuming) a 0-0, a scoreline that always grinds my gears - it's the first one since July, when Duncan Ferguson's Inverness and Arbroath drew a blank. Ollie is still a blog legend though. It's gut-wrenching to see him upset.

There's some good news incoming from my local, the Old Volunteer, on Burton Road, The CEO of Magpie Brewery has secured the lease of the building, so there will be some better quality beers on offer, as I've never been a huge fan of Flipside beers, whose brewery tap room it once was. 'Prima Doners' is still shut down on Coronation Street. Poor old Chesney is at his wits' end. He has the family the size of the Waltons to feed, and has now been reduced to delivering pizzas on his bicycle - it's a bit of a bumpy ride on those cobbled streets too. The owner of the kebab shop, Dev Alahan, the guy who over acts and exclaims in every scene, is blowing a gasket, that due to monies lost, he may have to stop his membership at Weatherfield Golf Club - I bet he gets cross if he misses a three foot putt.

One of my favourite bands, The Cure, dominate the 6 Music airwaves on Thursday. They've released their first album in 16 years. Robert Smith is interviewed on the Huw Stephens show and they play a live set too, from the Maida Vale Studios. I was in from the off, with the band, back in late 1978, when my mate Ackers tipped me off about a double A side single they released called Killing an Arab and 10:15 Saturday Night, that he had heard on the John Peel show. I used to send off a stamped addressed envelope to a lady called Mary, who lived in Horsham, Sussex, with a £1 cheque placed inside. In return you would receive the latest Cure fanzine. Robert Smith is still married to Mary.

I meet Tony Mac in town on Thursday evening. Earlier I'd done an about-turn in the Cock and Hoop, on High Pavement, having received the grim news from a red-faced barman that no cask ales or craft beers were available until next week ..... mmm ... I smell a rat here. After a couple of drinks in Keans Head, Angel Microbrewery and Six Barrels, we head down Pelham Street and have our tickets scanned in at The Bodega.

Local goth/punk band, Bloodworm, are headlining tonight. If you like the haunting voice and music of Bauhaus or The Cure, then you'll love these. They are starting to make their mark, and have already had their new single played on 'BBC Introducing'. Add to the mix that it's Halloween, it should make for a good night.

Support band Swallowtail, with their shoegaze and post-punk melodies, begin proceedings. Bloodworm blow the stage apart with a blistering 50 minute set. DJ Murph is in the mix, at the front, as the mosh pit and crowd surfing reaches a crescendo with the final song of the set called 'Cemetery Dance.' I retire to Six Barrels, post gig, to catch up with Murph, Nige, 'Unders' and Sean, a Notts County fan and fellow lover of cricket and purveyor of real ale.

The FA Cup first round draw has caused quite a conundrum at Chez Palms. Dean and I put a date in the diary to view one of the ties with a 3 pm kick off. We were looking for a game where higher opposition might be turned over. Dean fancied Tamworth. This was declined due to rule 1a, paragraph 3 -"Sticky doesn't do 3G unless the Millers are playing or he's in Tenerife. I fancied Oldham could beat Tranmere at Prenton Park. We were kindly offered a lift to Birkenhead by Rovers fan and local Non League photographer, Steve Mack. But we fancied a full day out in a town where we could have a walk around and chalk a few pubs off. Crewe Alexandra v Dagenham and Redbridge fits the bill and meets the criteria.

Ms Moon was meant to be away this weekend, hence a full itinerary on Saturday. Her trip has been cancelled, but she has very kindly rubber stamped my pass. Dean is already on the Newark Castle to Crewe train at 9,30 - of course it's bloody late - East Midlands Trains, as buffoonery goes, are right up there and a leading light of comedy gold along with: Carlton Tesco, Ryanair and the Conservative Party.

I'm flicking through the football fixtures when I suddenly yelp. Stoke City are playing 'The Sheep' in a 12.30pm kick off. The train is rammed from Derby onwards as we cross the 'cattle grid.' Some of the Rams are rum 'uns. One lad has a full bottle of vodka - I wince at the thought. A couple of Swedish groundhoppers are near to us. They took in Notts County v Alfreton last night. Today they are squeezing in games at Stoke and Port Vale before an overnight stay in Chesterfield. They have a thirst for knowledge of the English League scene.

I've lined up brunch at Spedalis, a gourmet cafe, a ten minute walk away from the train station. Dean tucks into a local delicacy called the Oatcake; a savoury pancake. The food is worthy of a five star google review.

Crewe is a railway town in Cheshire with a population of over 70,000. Notable people from the town include: cricketer John Morris and ex Blackpool, QPR and now head coach at Hearts, Neil Critchley. The town looks tired and in need of some love. Five years of 'Conservative Crewe' and a massive BREXIT leave vote has seen little in return. You can hear a pin drop on a high street with more To Let signs than shops open.

It's got a few good pubs though. The Borough Arms and Hops, a Belgian bar, are worth the long hike across the other side of town. The landlord of The Borough is from my manor (Carlton) whilst the proprietor of Hops, who is immaculately dressed, says with immense pride that his cosy bar has been running for over 17 years.

We take our seats in the main stand as the players file out of the tunnel to the music of Dario G's 'Carnaval de Paris' the theme to France 1998 World Cup. It's a popular chant worldwide with football supporters. The dark horses of the Conference National, Dagenham and Redbridge, rock up in 13th place. They make a very bright opening, with everything going through on loan Junior Morias, who has made little impact at Notts County. He's targeted by the Railwaymen for some rough treatment.

It's 0-0 at the break. Crewe up the tempo in the second half. Daggers defend heroically. Totally against the run of play the ball is launched down the Crewe end, where a defender is caught napping and beaten for pace. Crewe's keeper comes careering out of his goal and upends the attacker. The resulting penalty is dispatched with aplomb, much to the delight of the travelling Daggers army, as they smash and grab their way into the second round draw.

Attendance: 3,123

Men of the Match: Daggers' Backline

Credit Steve McKeown Sport Photography