Notts County 4-0 Crawley Town

It's Sunday afternoon and I'm on the Northern Line from Kings Cross, that's shortly about to pull into Stockwell station. On 22nd July, 2005, there was a nervousness in the City of London, still lingering from bombings two weeks previously, which claimed fifty two lives. Only twenty four hours earlier there had been four failed bomb attempts by Islamic terrorists on the London underground system and a number 26 bus.

A flat in Tulse Hill, in south London, had been under police surveillance. A Brazilian electrician called Jean Charles de Menezes emerged from the block of flats. He was on his way to a job in Kilburn. Officers said he matched the description of one of the bombers from the botched attempt the previous day. Menezes was followed by police on a bus that he'd caught. 'Gold Command' headed up by Cressida Dick instructed officers that 'the suspect' was not to be allowed into Stockwell station nor to board a train. 

He was followed onto a train by specialist firearms officers. Eleven bullets were fired by two officers. Menezes was shot seven times in the head and died at the scene. No officers were prosecuted. After a long legal battle the family of Menezes were awarded £100,000. It was said to be a case of mistaken identity.

I stretch my legs as I stroll up Dalyell Road towards the Marquis of Lorne pub. Built in 1880 this wonderful street corner pub has heritage status. There's no real ale on, so I have to settle for a Guinness. The James Bond theme, by The Skalites, is booming out of the bar sound system, as a group of Jamaicans play dominoes. They laugh and tease one another when someone can't go. They knock so loudly on the table that the pub floor starts to shake.

My new favourite area of London is Brixton. It's re-invented itself since troubled times in the 1980s. It has a mural of silent movie film star Charlie Chaplin, who grew up in the area. His childhood was fraught with poverty and hardship.

I visit a total of six CAMRA heritage pubs. It's a long eight mile slog that takes me through Camberwell, Walworth, up Old Kent Road and onto Bermondsey. I'm fagged out and wet through when I finally pitch up at my hotel in Canning Town, which is one stop up the line from West Ham. I book a two night meal deal, which should save me a few bob in the long run. It's lights out by 10.30. I've got a long two days ahead of me.

I eat like a king at breakfast. Fully loaded, I jump onto a train on the Jubilee Line, alighting at London Bridge, where I rejoin the Northern Line. The final destination is The Oval, home to Surrey County Cricket Club.

It's a massive week in the Rothesay County Championship. Notts are on Surrey's tail. A win for either side would see the victors edging towards clinching the title. There are plenty of familiar faces from Trent Bridge in the crowd. I bask in the sunshine in a stand opposite to the pavilion.

I'm joined by my brother and his father in-law, Tony, a Yorkshire CCC member. Notts are asked to bat on a green top wicket. You can't take your eye off the game. Notts are all out for 231. Surrey lose a wicket before the close of play. I tick a few pubs off with my brother. Mayflower, at Rotherhithe, is a beauty. Despite it being a Monday, the pub is bustling with cheery drinkers and hungry diners.

I'm back at The Oval for Day Two. I arrive an hour before the start of play as I want a shufti around the three-floors of the Mickey Stewart Pavilion. I have a coffee in the long room, engaging with a few friendly Surrey members. The pavilion is like an Aladdin's cave, with a nod to its past and present. There's a touching tribute to their legendary batsman Graham Thorpe.

The second day's play is as good as it gets. I sit on the top deck with Rich Drury and an old British Coal colleague called Steve Tagg, as events unfold. Close on 350 runs are scored for the loss of 17 wickets. England and Wales Cricket Board are looking to reduce this format. They are added to the buffoon list that includes: East Midlands Railway, X-Country Trains, Carlton Tesco, Tommy Robinson and caged 3G football 'stadia.

'I arrive home late on Tuesday night. The next few evenings are spent in the kitchen rustling up supper, as brownie points are required after the London passout was rubber-stamped and approved. I did manage to watch the nailbiting finale of the Surrey v Notts game on TV. The visitors held their nerve to win by twenty runs. Josh Tongue bowled the spell of his life.

I'm back on a train again on Friday - and it's an early one too. Tony Mac has planned a day out of walking, culture and pubs, in the city of Oxford. After changing in Birmingham we roll into town at just after 11 a.m. The sun is shining brightly over the city centre. We have a list of 14x pubs to tick off (half pints in most). There are a couple of heritage ones, the first is called Rose and Crown, which is located on a narrow street to the north of the city.

Oxford has welcomed students old and new to the city for the start of term at the university. The boffins and great young brains in the universe are gathered alongside Tony Mac and Sticky Palms. We clock up over eight miles and complete our task of visiting every Good Beer Guide entry in the 2025 publication.

Regular readers of these diary entries will have become familiar with how difficult it has become for me to find a train driver late on a Friday evening or at least one that can be arsed to clock on for work. Let's not forget the strikes and work-to-rule these train company employees chose to go on over the last few years. Add Cross Country Trains to the joker list folks. Announced as the worst train operator in the United Kingdom only five days ago. I roll in at 1 a.m. thanks to another no show from a train crew on the 10.03 p.m. train from Birmingham to Nottingham.

A return journey full refund is confirmed via email by Trainline on Saturday morning. I expect to be invited to the Trainline Customer Service Christmas lunch, such is my familiarity. I laze around as the skies darken and Ms Moon goes food shopping. I jump on a bus after lunch, alighting at the bottom of Sneinton.

Notts County have made a slow start to the season. There was an upsurge in form due to the goalscoring feats of Matthew Dennis. Tony Mac was in attendance at Priestfield Stadium last week where they narrowly lost to Gareth Ainsworth's unbeaten Gills. Dennis is an absentee today.

I engage in conversation with a lovely, elderly gentleman who's adjacent to me in the Derek Pavis Stand. He suggests that high agent fees have led to the departure of their Director of Football - who knows?

Crawley have returned to some good form of late after a shaky start. They play a high tempo passing game in the first quarter of the half without harming Notts too much. Scottish midfielder Scott Robertson has returned to the Pies team after a long term injury. He's already had a sighter when he picks the ball up unchallenged, strides forward and hits a clean left-footed shot into the corner of the net.

The visitors fall like a deck of cards in the second half. Substitutes Luker and Hall combine to put the game beyond reach. Jatta looks hungry again and has improved his all round game. He blasts home from an acute angle before Hall, with his second, completes the rout.

Attendance: 8,974

Player of the Match: Matty Palmer - covered every blade of grass.  A class act

Best Record Heard on the Radio This Week: Mount Palomar - 'Pass the Parcel

Favourite Ale of the Week - Animal Brewing, Hop Kitty, in St Aldate's Tavern, Oxford  

Matlock Town 3-0 Carlton Town

It's midway through the second half up at Gedling Miners Welfare. Jack Jepson brushes an opponent from South Normanton, just a few yards away from where we're standing. He theatrically falls to the floor, holding his head and crying like a baby. I berate him and call him a cheat, as it infuriates me when a player tries to hoodwink an official into (a) giving a free-kick and (b) cautioning the 'offender.' Ms Moon is embarrassed by my outburst "You can't call anyone a big girl's blouse anymore babe." She quickly makes an excuse to leave the game early, as she wants to open her The Waltons box set.

The good lady misses two pearlers from the Clarke brothers that puts the game to bed. South Normanton throw the towel in. I walk briskly up Plains Road whilst checking a few scores on my phone, from a threadbare Football League programme - everybody is dead mardy when it's an international break weekend, aren't they?

The sun sets on Mapperley Top as I wander through the front door of The Blues Dawg, a Good Beer Guide micropub. I enjoy a couple of pints from a brewery located in Bury called Deeply Vale. I'm tucked up in bed early doors as the Reform lads will be up bright and breezy for their papers in the morning.

'Shoey', the physio from Radford, pops into the shop on Monday. The word up on the streets of Hyson Green is that I will be in attendance for the Radford v Bread 'n Lard Island game on Tuesday evening. "Sticky, we're on a bad run of form right now, the last thing we need is you rocking up you Jonah", says the Shoemeister. DJ Murph saves the day when he invites me to Southwell v Gedling the following evening. For the record Radford won the game 1-0. Taking Shoey's advice I stay away from Raddy and watch an impressive England bamboozle a mediocre Serbian team.

Post work on Wednesday there's time for a chippy tea and a quick scoop with Faggsy in the Old Volunteer on Burton Road before DJ Murph picks us up. 'Clubshop Ken' is waiting a mile or so further away. It's like a trip down memory lane as we drive through the villages of Lowdham, Thurgarton and Fiskerton. I've particularly fond memories of the latter where I used to meet Mum and Dad for lunch at the Bromley Arms before enjoying the August Bank Holiday meeting at Southwell Racecourse.

It's £6 on the gate that includes a free programme. I'm very fond of Southwell City. I've always admired their trust in youth, rather than chasing 'the dream' by bringing lads in from far and wide. The new ground is a beauty. It looks even better under the lights with its lush playing surface and plush clubhouse. Malc Brown and Danny Harkin join us for the first half.

There have been some filthy black clouds hovering over Brinkley. They unload 15 minutes into the game. We dash for cover into the small stand. Gedling play some slick football and are unlucky not to take the lead when Hastings sees a penalty hit the frame of the goal.

Jack Jepson hits a pearler from distance after a mazy run to put the Miners 1-0 up. Kieran Harrison finishes emphatically after another slick move. You can't fault the energy and effort from the Zebras, but they are below par in the final third.

It's Thursday morning and time for a haircut. Mr Eko, my Bosnian Barber, is cleaning his shop front window on Sneinton Market. He's just returned from a 10 day holiday in Switzerland, where he's stayed off the fags and vodka, preferring to enjoy some mountain air and peace and quiet. He makes me coffee and gets down to business. He finishes off with a head and neck massage. I feel as fresh as a daisy as I wander up Hockley and down some steps, close to Nottingham College, towards the railway station.

It's a short choo choo ride today, as EMR are not to be trusted following recent shenanigans. I alight at the north Notts town of Kirkby-in-Ashfield. With a 70% vote for BREXIT and 42% vote for Reform, there's little surprise in seeing a sea of St George flags hanging out of bedroom windows and tied to lamposts, as I walk out of town towards the village of Nuncargate.

The reason for my visit is two fold: one of the greatest cricket players to grace the hallowed turf of Trent Bridge lived here and also there is a CAMRA heritage pub adjacent to the village playing fields. I walk up to17, Chapel Street. It's where Harold Larwood grew up. As mentioned in these chronicles before, he rose to fame during the 'Bodyline' Ashes series of 1932-33. On arrival home he was cast aside and hung out to dry by the powers that be. He ended up living in Blackpool where he ran a sweet shop - imagine this happening to Freddie Flintoff. I doff my Notts cap outside his house where a plaque is still fitted to the brickwork.

The licensee (can we still say landlady?) is unlocking the front door of the nearby Cricketers Arms. She pours me a pint of Guinness. I settle in the corner where I catch up on the cricket scores. Astonishingly Notts have won a cliffhanger of a Championship game at Worcester by 3 wickets. I make my way home via the pit villages of Annesley and Newstead.

It's rinse and repeat on Friday morning. I have breakfast at the Hungry Pumpkin before heading down to the train station. I'm in the hands of East Midlands Railway today, folks. Andre Onana's mitts are safer - and that's some statement. 

I've already completed the Good Beer Guide pubs of Stoke on-Trent. Many a mile has been pegged out with Tony Mac. But I have another mission that I'm giving my all to complete. There must be well over 600 two star and three star Heritage status pubs in the United Kingdom. I currently stand on 278.

A lot of folk will tell you that Stoke has its challenges; they are people that have never been. It's steeped in history and is also a fantastic drinking town(s). The hill up to Penkull takes my breath away. I stroll up to The Views, an old Georgian house, which is pretty much a ruin now. Sir Stanley Matthews used to live here. So did Sir Oliver Lodge, the inventor of the spark plug. A few old boys are propping up the bar of the Greyhound Inn. There's not much that takes my fancy. A pint of Timothy Taylor's best bitter quenches my thirst.

It's a 6 mile walk to the next boozer. I manage to walk three miles of it, mostly uphill, before booking a taxi. The Vine has recently reopened. The doors have been closed for the last five years. The proprietor, Lisa, makes a fuss of me at this locals' pub. The Bass is well looked after. The rooms are amazing and it has a beautiful back garden too. I manage a Titanic plum porter at Bod, a pub located on platform one at Stoke train station. Amazingly the train is on time and we have a driver too.

I rustle up a chilli con carne on my return to Sticky Towers. I start to write this blog whilst watching Gogglebox with Ms Moon as I'm off to London for a few days on Sunday to watch Notts at The Oval on Monday and Tuesday.

I call by the Hungry Pumpkin on Saturday morning on my way to the station as I noticed yesterday that my payment for breakfast didn't go through. I settle up and grab a sandwich to accompany me on my short walk.

The main group of Carlton fans caught the train an hour earlier than me. I catch up with them all at Twenty Ten, a cafe bar and GBG entry. They are showing the Arsenal v NFFC on the big screen. Talk turns to today's game, most are optimistic as the Millers are playing some good stuff of late.

A bleary-eyed 'Casually Dan' has rocked up on a later train. He was playing a DJ set at Billy Bootleggers post and pre-gig until the very early hours of Saturday morning. 

It's £12 on the gate because we have to pay for Conor Washington's win bonus. The Northern Irishman has won 43 caps for his country. According to news sources QPR once paid £3 million for his services. Back in 2012 Non League Cambridgeshire club St Ives sold Washington to Newport County for £6k - I hope they inserted a transfer clause.

Carlton are all over the shop for the first 20 minutes. It's only due to good fortune that they find themselves 1-0 down. They are getting rinsed in wide areas and their frailties are exposed time and time again. Once they settle they start to play a beautiful game. A succession of corners are won as they begin to rattle the home side's defence.

There's been a healthy turnout of Carlton Town fans. The consensus at half time, after an encouraging 25 minutes is that this game can be won. The second half is scrappy, with not much doing, There's good natured banter between the Matlock fans and former player Oliver Clarke, who flashes them a smile. The Millers look disjointed after a flurry of substitutions. Washington hammers home the final nail in the coffin. The scoreline is harsh, but they've paid the price for a poor start to the game.

Attendance: 507

Player of the Match: Casually Dan - great effort son

Best Song Heard on the Radio: Crime by Youth Sector

Beer of the Week: False Idols,  Anarchy Brewery, at Partizan Tavern

Gedling Miners' Welfare 3-1 South Normanton Ath

The mood is buoyant in the Millers' clubhouse after Carlton's 3-0 victory over an off-colour Cleethorpes Town. The visiting fans are in a sombre mood as they pack up their flags and head off home to the North East Lincolnshire coast. There's no post match interview with their mardy manager due to a 'technical glitch'  Not only do they sing when they are fishing, but ONLY when they win too! Compare this to the fist pumps and smiles as wide as the nearby river Trent, as the home fans party, prior to the Leeds United v Newcastle United game on the TV set.

I order an Uber taxi and head off into town. I'm meeting Tony Mac at the Angel Microbrewery, in Nottingham's Lace Market. We're due to see American post-punk band Bambara, at The Bodega, on Pelham Street, in the city centre. The pub bar (Angel) is ten deep with customers. I check my phone whilst I wait for Mac. He messages me some bad news: "gig's off mate, due to illness."

Well, there's nowt we can do about it. Ms Moon has her bestie, Jill, round for a drink tonight. I don't want to spoil their evening by arriving home unexpectedly. We get stuck into a few ales at the old crowd favourites: Six Barrels, Cock and Hoop, Kean's Head, Junkyard and the Barrel Drop.

We have a lazy Sunday. I spend the afternoon knocking up episode one of Season 21 of The Groundhopper. It can't go on forever, but I'll give it another season. I'm motivated to write by listening to four hours of back-to-back Radcliffe and Maconie on 6Music.

It's back to the grind on Monday morning, at MSR News in Arnold. There's a new sheriff in town on Front Street that needs introducing to you, the blog reader. His name is Basil the Bluenose, who is a Dachshund puppy. His mum, Elaine, works at a nearby bar. His partner in crime is Dad, Steve. They are as thick as thieves folks. Frequenting pubs not only in Arnold, but also Mansfield. 

Basil and I got off to a bad start when he chose to have a whoopsie in the shop. To be fair I let him off a yellow card as it was close to where the Daily Mails are piled up - I used a copy of one to wipe up his mess; I quite enjoyed it to be honest. Basil won't talk to me if I'm wearing a baseball cap or if Birmingham City get spanked. He's still mardy on Monday after their 2-0 reverse at the King Power Stadium on Friday evening.

I'm back in Nottingham on Tuesday evening. I dine at Slice 'n Brew, an independent pizzeria near to the Cornerhouse complex. I love their salami and hot honey thin crust pizza with a truffle and Parmesan dip. After tea I wander down to a pub at the bottom of Hockley called Bunkers Hill, a popular haunt for Nottingham Panthers ice hockey fans. Our man Mac is sat in the bar. We watch Lincoln City take the lead over Notts County in the Football League Trophy.

We take a wander past the Bath Inn in Sneinton Market before turning right onto Aberdeen Street. We're making our debut at a venue called J.T. Soar. For the princely sum of £15 they are putting on four bands. I'm particularly impressed with local group Sofftness, who I'll definitely take a second look at on their next outing. New South Wales, Aussie rockers, R.M.F.C. finish off the evening with a powerful set.

On Monday evening Ms Moon and I watch a documentary on BBC iPlayer called 'The Vanishing Cyclist' - thanks for the heads up 'Our Kid.' It's about a charity cyclist who vanishes into thin air whilst on a ride from Fort William. I don't want to spoil it, but it's compelling viewing with a desperately sad ending.

I'm up in Greater Manchester on Thursday on a Heritage Pub and Victoria Cross grave memorial day. Cotgrave Trev is piloting. Crazy Steve and Little Al  complete the quartet. On 23rd April, 2013, 25 year old Fusilier Lee Rigby, a drummer and machine-gunner, was attacked and murdered by Islamic terrorists near to Royal Artillery Barracks, in Woolwich. Rigby was mowed down by a car and then hacked and stabbed to death. He is laid to rest at Boarshaw Cemetery, in Middleton, close to Rochdale. We pay our respects at his grave.

The pub of the day is the Old Cross Inn, in the town of Radcliffe, which is near Bury. It's a relatively unspoilt heritage pub that's from the Joseph Holt stable. The landlady makes a proper fuss of us when she hears how far we have come. She takes a photo of the group for the pub Facebook page and gifts us all with a Joseph Holt pint pot - what a lovely touch. 

There's no rest for the wicked. I have breakfast with Mac at The Avenues, in Sneinton Market, bright and early on Friday morning. An hour later we board the 8.41 EMR train to Ipswich. On board are Coops and Matt Limon. It's another Keyworth Jolly Boys Outing. We change at Ely, where we hook up with Mad Dog and Ackers. By twelve bells we're basking in the autumnal sunshine at the Steamboat Tavern, a popular, historic riverside tavern.

Sticky Palms gets in bad books when he drags the lads on a long, uphill hike out of town to the Margaret Catchpole CAMRA Heritage pub, only to find it's been shut down for a week. I try to make amends by shouting a round up at the Fat Cat Brewery pub, another half an hour walk away.

The day is great fun until I receive an email at 7pm. Those tossers at EMR have cancelled our train home due to a shortage of train crew. The sickness culture created by full pay for illness, fought for by the Union, needs reviewing, as this is prevalent, particularly at weekends. We arrive back in Nottingham, via the Leicestershire pork pie capital, Melton Mowbray and an expensive Uber ride.

I'm still blowing a gasket on Saturday. It's not helping me that Ms Moon is watching the back catalogue of Little House on the Prairie on the Great TV channel. I crank up the laptop and fire off a complaint to Trainline, who immediately agree to compensate me. Ms Moon says it's probably not a good idea to connect with the cowboy CEO of East Midlands Trains on LinkedIn as I might receive a lifetime ban. I agree for now to let it rest, or at least until I've had a couple of stiff Hendricks gins.

Ms Moon and I have lunch at the Old Flower Shop on Mapperley Top. The food and service is excellent. The cheesecake that I have for dessert is to die for. They've certainly upped their game since knocking through into the old fruit and veg shop next door, which has enabled them to double their capacity.

It's a short trip up to Gedling MW's Plains Road ground today. It doesn't take long for Sticky's favourite, Joel Stevens, to open the scoring after a powerful run. The goal deflates the visitors who started the game brightly. They restore parity shortly after half-time, but soon lose heart after two stunning goals from the Miners. 

It's the wee right back, Orlando, that catches the eye. He's only a young 'un but already has an excellent football brain. He's neat, tidy and comfortable on the ball. The lad has no interest in being petulant or immature, he just gets on with his game. Hopefully he gets another outing at Southwell on Wednesday evening.

Woman of the Week: Landlady at the Old Cross Inn

Attendance: 84

Best Track Heard This Week: 'Echoes', by Sorry

Favourite Ale of the Week: Wylam, Frenzied Reveller, Fox and Grapes, Sneinton

Carlton Town 3-0 Cleethorpes Town

It's Sunday 27th July and I'm back in Scotland where last season's blog ended. We're on the A96 adjacent to RAF Lossiemouth, where tomorrow the world's biggest buffoon, Donald J Trump, will be flying in for a summit with Sir Keir Starmer. Crazy Steve makes a right hand turn as he drops down the gears. We're about to visit Highland League club Lossiemouth FC. As Crazy picks up speed he can't get the car in gear. His clutch is kaput. The Scottish tour is curtailed.

I scratch my head as Crazy rummages around in his glove compartment trying to unearth his breakdown cover documents. I'm 500 miles away from home and on media duties early on Tuesday. Crazy and Little Al jump into a tow truck as his Hyundai is taken to the scrapyard in the sky - they will stay the night with friends in Turriff, who we met yesterday at a game between Buckie Thistle and Nairn. I have a day and a half to get home on my Jack Jones.

Scott's Taxis fleece me for £22 for the five mile journey to nearby Elgin. I reconvene in a Wetherspoons pub in the centre of town, where I wolf down a huge American breakfast whilst planning how the chuffing hell I'm going to get home. I hatch a plan to stay in Aberdeen for the night, as I've already booked a room for £35 at the Premier Inn.

Before departing by train I take a stroll up to Elgin City's Borough Briggs ground. It's a beauty folks and has two wonderful old stands. I make a mental note to return and watch a game. It's hosing it down in Aberdeen when I arrive at just after 3 pm. I go on a five hour mini pub crawl, avoiding D J Trump like the plague. A drunken old Scotsman, who's slouched in his seat at a CAMRA Heritage pub called The Grill, asks me who is the greatest ever player to pull on a Nottingham Forest shirt. "That's an easy one pal   ..... John Robertson." He argues that Trevor Francis was a better player. "Goodnight pal", I say, as I edge near to the exit door. 

The hotel is packed with journalists from around the world, who await the visit of President Trump. If only they knew that I work for the Media too ... lol. Earlier, at the Queen Victoria, England's Women's team won the Euros final. The winning penalty was met with a stony silence in a packed out bar.

I arrive back in Nottingham the following day at 5pm. It's a decent effort by Scot Rail. The less said about Cross Country Trains the better. I'm looking forward to a revisit across the border next April where Edinburgh, Dundee and Aberdeen are on the agenda.

It's been a long hot summer that I've thoroughly enjoyed; particularly the break from football. I've parked my backside at Trent Bridge a few times for County Championship games and the T20 Blast. It's been pleasing on the eye (well the good one) to see the development of Freddie McCann, Liam Patterson-White and Jack Haynes. I'm booked in for a few days at The Oval in mid September when the title decider takes place between Surrey and Notts.

I've been to a few games already this season. I ticked off Bromley FC a few weeks back after spending a few days in Hastings, Rye and London, where I ticked off 16 CAMRA Heritage pubs. The following week I was told to 'eff off' as I squeezed through the turnstile at Radford FC's Selhurst Street ground. They were up against another team I like, Stapleford Town. As The Smiths said in 1984  'Stop me if you've heard this one before'  .. yep Radford were 1-0 up and looking in control, suddenly they're 2-1 down and it's game over. I'm out the gate before I catch Big Glenn's eye  ... lol.

It's Tuesday evening and I'm alighting the 25 bus opposite the Nags Head on Carlton Road. I dive into Oceans fish bar for a chippy tea, as Ms Moon is down in Brighton, working. I'm back on the 25 bus an hour later. I jump off at Mapperley shops and take a wander down Plains Road.

I've already viewed Gedling Miners Welfare a few times this season and have liked what I've seen. Their 17 year old striker Joel Nana Tweneboah Kodua Stevens is absent tonight as he is on trial at League One, Reading. It's going to be expensive to get his name on the back of a replica shirt.

I stand with Faggsy, Jon Gilbert and Keyworth legend Chris Frame. The game isn't all that. A late Pinxton goal is enough for the visitors to take home the three points. I manage a pint from the Magpie Brewery at the Old Volunteer on the way home.

It's a quiet night in with a Tesco pizza on Wednesday evening after a 12 hour shift at MSR News in Arnold. I'm worn out having handed out copies of the Daily Mail all day. I watch 20 minutes of Rangers (that's enough for anyone), followed by Fenerbahce v Benfica, Jose's last game and finally the eventful shoot-out at Blundell Park, where Grimsby Town pull off a giant-killing.

Ms Moon is back on Friday afternoon. We have a couple of drinks at the Fox and Grapes in Sneinton. I notice they have a Black Iris beer on. I presume that it's a cask ale. Ms Moon returns from the bar with a face like thunder. She slams a can on the table  .. "£7.75 that flipping cost" - I can't 'arf pick em folks.

We dine at Raymond's on Stoney Street, opposite the Angel Microbrewery. It's a tapas restaurant that we've visited before and thoroughly enjoyed. I've saved enough pennies for a repeat visit. We enjoy some crab flatbread, crispy potatoes and salt-aged sirloin. It's washed down with white wine. I go as white as a sheet when presented with the bill.

On Saturday morning I have a couple of coffees and place my football bet before venturing out on the front to do some weeding. Ms Moon very kindly drops me off on Emerys Road as I don't feel like walking after my foot swelled up following another 12 hour shift at the land of the Daily Mail on Friday.

I can hear DJ Dan's set as clear as a bell following an upgrade to the sound system. 'Frankly Mr Shankly' by The Smiths is the tune of the day. I pay £10 on the gate. Today is a First Qualifying Round FA Cup tie against Northern Premier League Cleethorpes Town, who not only play a level above, but also turned over the Mighty Millers twice last season without breaking sweat.

Rumours are rife around Stoke Lane amongst the gossip mongers,sewing circle and Daily Mail readers (Edward) that Sticky's favourite, 'The Carlton Cattermole', is AWOL at a Coldplay concert at Wembley Stadium. If this is true it will be headline news in tomorrow's Non League Paper and Hello magazine.

I get chatting to a Nottingham bus driver, Bart, who is wearing a Radcliffe Olympic football shirt. The club sponsor is post-punk duo Sleaford Mods. I wander over to the far side of the ground to take my place in the 'Malc Brown Stand.' There's a no show in the Cleethorpes dugout from their gobshite manager Craig Rouse. It's no surprise to hear that he has a touchline ban. The clown is stood under the camera tower just a few yards away from Malc and I.

The game is played at a high tempo from the off. Ashley Chambers gives the Millers the lead after nipping in, rounding the keeper and scoring with a left foot shot from a tight angle. Khyle Sargent, who has been nothing short of magnificent this season, makes it 2-0 with a terrific header from a pinpoint Niall Davie free kick. The visitors are shellshocked and Rouse is raging. The Owls fight back. Brave blocks, last ditch tackles and a clearance off the line keep the score intact. It's been a breathtaking 45 minutes of football.

The mood in the clubhouse is upbeat, but these are proper, savvy football folk down here who are well aware that any complacency can't set, in particularly after a 98th minute equaliser was conceded at Long Eaton on Bank Holiday Monday. I didn't speak to Ms Moon for ten minutes, on the way home, when she said "it's only a game babe" as we exited the ground. DJ Dan completes his set with some Northern Soul classics.

Carlton see out the game superbly in the second half. Chambers puts the game to bed with a sublime goal of the highest quality. He curls a shot from 20 yards out that looks to be missing the upright, only for it to catch the wind and draw back in squeezing under the angle of the post and bar. There's been an edge to the game but it's all handshakes after  - even the rarely humble Rouse congratulates Carlton on his socials.

Attendance: 230

Man of the Match: Ash Chambers

Song of the Week: JONNY, Monster Florence

Beer of the Week: Scorching Haze, Black Iris

Dumbarton 3-1 Annan Athletic

It's Thursday 24th April and I'm propping the bar up at a laidback craft ale haunt called Junkyard, that's tucked away down a ginnel off Weekday Cross, in Nottingham city centre. It's the beginning of five days away from the 'Media World' (paper shop). I sink a couple of beauties from the Pressure Drop stable, a brewery based in Tottenham, north London.

I make the short walk across the road to Pelham Street, where Nottingham's coolest music venue, The Bodega, is. My ticket is scanned on the door. Tony Mac is AWOL this evening. Well actually he's just around the corner at Fletchers restaurant, wining and dining with his wife. He's about to miss a treat on the music front.

Noisy, shouty, left-wing issues-based, Teesside collective, Benefits are in town, showcasing their new album Constant Noise. The right wing Press have been dishing out rave reviews in their Tory rags. Charismatic lead singer, Kingsley Hall, is at his angry best. He even takes a swipe at Sir Keir Starmer, which takes me by surprise. I manage a quick chat with an old work colleague (and ex boss) Scott Smith who is accompanied by Ergo Computing legend, Johnny Haslam. I'm back home by 10.30pm with a huge smile on my face after an electrifying performance from the north eastern Smoggies.

It's Friday morning and I'm grabbing a coffee and a bacon cob from the Hungry Pumpkin, a Lace Market family-owned cafe deli on High Pavement. I'm at the train station by 8.30. It's a three day trip up to Glasgow that Tony Mac and I have looked forward to for months now. I booked the tickets so far in advance that they are a steal at £44 each.

There's a 40 minute change at Manchester Piccadilly. We see three arrests by the police outside the station. One shoplifter in particular is distraught and in tears - it's so sad to see this played out in front of our eyes. The Trans Pennine Express train arrives at Glasgow Central at 2.30pm on the nose.

Mac has booked a plush apartment that forms part of the Glasgow Royal Infirmary - at least we won't have far to walk should one of us fall ill or have an accident. There are 12x CAMRA Heritage Pubs in the vicinity that I want to chalk off as well as a fair few Good Beer Guide entries. 

Before checking-in at the digs we visit a few watering holes including Babbity Bowster which I have frequented on another occasion. I used to work for a company called Ideagen PLC, who sell governance, risk and compliance software - they are now a major sponsor for Nottingham Forest Football Club. They had an office up in East Kilbride, so I've spent a fair amount of time up here, but still have to cock my ear and listen intently when deciphering the dialect.

The plan was to go and watch a Scottish Championship top of the table clash between Partick and Falkirk. Unfortunately, for us, the match has been brought forward 24 hours to satisfy the TV companies. We've already bought tickets for a gig to be held on the same night.

We're in the dark and dingy basement of a venue called Room 2, on Nelson Mandela place. The drinks available are nothing to write home about. Local darkwave/electronic band, Mercy Girl, open up the gig. The main event is Bambara, a post punk/grunge band that hails from Athens, in Georgia, but who are now based in Brooklyn, New York. It's a blistering, high energy, boisterous set which is led and steered superbly by frontman Reid Bateh, who has the look of Elvis, with his black leather jacket, white T-shirt and snake hips. It's gone past midnight when we finally roll into bed (not together).

We're up, at 'em and having a Scottish breakfast by 9.30. The black pudding melts in the mouth, whilst the Americano is much-needed after a heavy day of travel on Friday. Glasgow has a superb underground rail system. £4,50 all day travel is great value. The first stop of the day is a HP pub called Brechins in the town of Govan, which was once famous for its shipyards. Brechins is open from nine in the morning and closes at teatime - it's more of a community pub that sadly doesn't sell real ale. It's early in the day, so we settle for half of Tennent's lager.

Ibrox is the next stop on the outer line. The football stadium is a short walk away. There's a statue of former manager Walter Smith as well as a number of memorials to people who lost their lives in several tragic incidents at the ground. In 1971, 66 supporters died following a crush on an exit stairway; over 200 people were injured too.

Lunchtime is spent in the smart town of Partick where we partake in a couple of beverages at some GBG pubs. It's a short train journey to Dumbarton, home to 'The Sons' and the infamous Dumbarton Rock that towers above the main stand.

Dumbarton are a club in crisis and are currently in administration. £122,000 has been raised in a crowdfunder. They are already relegated, but can play their part in how things will shape in the final standings. Annan Athletic, a Borders team, are today's visitors. Peter Shearstone, a fellow fan of Carlton Town, is a big supporter of the Galabankies.

It's sub standard fayre served up by both teams in the first half an hour. Clearances are shanked and chances are spurned. The visitors dominate proceedings, but somehow, totally against the run of play, 'The Sons' take the lead, much to the surprise and delight of most of the 581 in attendance.

There's the usual sending off that I tend to witness North of the Border; although this one is a tad harsh. An old warrior of a centre forward restores parity for the visitors. The game is suspended with 15 minutes remaining as a fire alarm has gone off. We all end up on the pitch which affords us a bird's eye view of the Dumbarton Rock. Once the game restarts 'The Sons' score two further goals to confirm Annan's fate, which will be a relegation play-off game. My mate Pete won't be happy. There's time for a quick drink at the 'Spoons in the town centre before boarding a train and heading up to Hillhead, Kelvinbridge and back into Glasgow city centre. It's gone midnight again when we finally return to base camp.

It's a lot warmer on Sunday as we take a wander and a gander at the superb street art and statues that are dotted around Glasgow. We have a posh breakfast at Cafe Gandolfi, with its high ceilings and old world vibe. We take a ride out on the overhead train to the town of Shettleston. We are greeted by a friendly old drunk in the doorway of The Railway Tavern - we can't understand a word he says.

We jump on another train to the town of Paisley, which is famous for its weaving industry, with its name given to the Paisley shawl and Paisley pattern. The actors Tom Conti and Gerard Butler were born here, as were the footballers Owen Coyle and Gordon 'Jukebox' Durie. 

It's an impressive town with some superb buildings. Four pubs are ticked off before returning to Glasgow in time for the second half of the FA Cup semi final between Manchester City and Nottingham Forest. We chance upon a table close to a TV that's mounted upon a wall at the Drum and Monkey, a grand old building that was once a bank. Forest are magnificent in the second half, but once again Gibbs-White achilles heel is his finishing.

We wander the streets of Glasgow in the evening ticking off more historical pubs. We're so far out of town that we have to UBER it back to Ben Nevis (the pub not the mountain). We finish up at a Spoons before the long slog back to the digs with just a Sainsbury's cheese and ham sandwich for company.

Attendance: 581

Man of the Match: Tony Mac. Planned the trip superbly

Best Beer Supped this Week: Lincoln Green, Hang in There

Best Song Heard on the Radio: Father John Misty - I Guess Time Just Makes Fools of Us