Beverley Town 4-0 Frickley Athletic

It's late in the evening on Saturday 4th Jan, and I'm relaxing in the bar at Hotel Indigo, in Chester, having a final drink (gin) following a fabulous, football-free weekend in the cathedral city. Ms Moon has sloped off outside for a cigarette. I begin to engage with a couple of American tourists who are sat next to me. I exchange pleasantries for a short while before the subject of U.S politics rears its ugly head. It emerges that the two sisters are massive Donald Trump supporters. Readers of this blog are well aware that I don't receive bad news or right wingers too well, particularly after a large Tanqueray 10. A Gincident appears on the horizon. I feel the red mist descending. I rise from my chair as one of the women eulogises over Trump - "goodnight ladies", I shout, as I usher away a confused Ms Moon who has returned from her ciggie.

Snow has fallen overnight and we're both fretting at the breakfast table about how the hell we are going to get home to Nottingham. We fight our way through the sludge to the railway station. Our fate is firmly in the hands of the British railway gods - thank the Lord the worst train operator in Europe, East Midland Railway, won't be getting involved.

It's all change at Crewe, but sadly not towards Derby, as there are rail replacement buses due to track work. We change trains at Tamworth, and I'm back in my armchair, in Carlton, Nottingham by 1.15pm. Big shout out to Avanti West Coast. London North Western and X-Country for getting us home safely. The latter TOC has had some hammer on this blog over the last 12 months, so I just want to redress the balance.

The freeze sets in over the week. There's 'Bob Hope' of any football taking place. Keyworth United call off an evening fixture (on 3G)  because it's too cold - who ever heard of an 'all weather surface' being called off for frost? Suitable footwear should suffice.

Us train lads defy the odds on Friday morning. I jump on the 10.17 destined for Worksop. I'm joined by blog legend Tony Mac at the Hucknall stop - there's some unfinished business (pub tick offs) in the north of the county. We catch a connecting choo choo up to Retford, the birthplace of one of Nottinghamshire's finest cricketers and greatest fielders. Derek Randall, nicknamed 'Arkle', after the racehorse, due to his prowess and speed in the field, was the reason why I loved cricket so much. Every kid I knew wanted to field in the covers.

There's a Heritage Pub, just off the market square, called the Turks Head, that we need to tick off. We enter through an oak door. It has retained many of the features from its original 1930s build. We shoot back to Worksop where we jump on a bus towards Carlton in Lindrick, a village where the wife of Antarctic explorer Captain Scott was born - Scott would have been a happy bunny in these Baltic conditions today.

We finish the day up in Mansfield at Stella Taps, a good beer guide entry, after visiting a few hostelries in Worksop that we'd both not supped at before. I'm back home before 8 pm after jumping on a Pronto Mansfield to Nottingham bus - although a miserable, grumpy driver is not accepting an all day Stagecoach ticket I bought earlier in the day.

There's chuff all chance of a game of ball on Saturday after another overnight frost. Sticky Palms and Ms Moon Cleaning Services are in full flow. I get the slow cooker fired up and run a hot bath whilst listening to the second half scores coming in from the FA Cup third round ties that are being played up and down the country.

On Sunday evening I have my head in my hands, with my mental health plummeting faster than the freezing temperatures. A new series of Dancing on Ice has appeared on our TV screen. I reach for my headset and put on some music. A wee little ginger fella, skating on the ice,  catches my eye. "Is that Chesney off Corrie?", I ask Ms Moon. The good lady replies in the affirmative. "Is he still on gardening leave from the 'Prima Doner' kebab shop on the cobbled streets?" I enquire. "Yes, it's still shut down," says Ms Moon.

The next few days are longer than a week in prison. There's no football on offer, just Arsenal v Spurs on Wednesday evening, which wasn't all that. Monotony was broken the previous evening, which was spent in the charming company of Faggsy in the Fox and Grapes, at the bottom of Sneinton, where we enjoyed some fine ales and a good chinwag as Forest and Liverpool played out a 1-1 draw, a mile down the road, at The City Ground.

It was announced on Friday that the former Manchester United and Torino centre forward, Denis Law, had died at the age of 84. He was the only Scottish footballer ever to have won the Ballon d'Or. He is also remembered for scoring six goals in an FA Cup tie (the match was abandoned) and for back-heeling a goal for Man City that saw United relegated to the second tier of English football. If you are ever in his hometown of Aberdeen then checkout his statue; it's a beauty.

It's Saturday morning and I'm wandering up towards Mrs Bunns Cob Emporium on Musters Road. A blue Hyundai car pulls up outside. It's Crazy Steve and Little Al. Today's destination is the market town of Beverley, in the East Riding of Yorkshire.

'Crazy' has a fuller diary than Samuel Pepys - actually that's not true as the said diary has been through the washing machine following a faux pax by Steve. Anything entered in the diary in marker pen has been washed away ..  lol,

He's just returned from a four day break in Belgium and Germany. He watched Frankfurt's 4-1 mauling of Freiburg. He was impressed that you could walk around the whole concourse of the ground. He's excited about an up and coming 4 day trip to Malaga where he'll take in some football and a T10 cricket tournament.

The drive to Beverley is a breeze as we bypass Newark and Lincoln before turning off the M180. We park the car up at a Tesco superstore where I clock a chap with a Beverley Town FC rain jacket on. He gives us directions to the ground, which is a short drive away.

The White Horse, known to locals as 'Nellies,' is another CAMRA Heritage pub. It has a number of rooms with roaring open fires. Crazy has a fetish for putting logs and coal on fires. He gets the green light for permission to do so - I get a telling off for taking a photo on my phone, as mobiles are banned in Sam Smiths pubs.

The local pubs are well supported by the community. We have to scrap for a seat in the Dog and Duck and Monks Walk Inn. We watch Newcastle United take a battering from an in-form AFC Bournemouth.

It's a good value £6 on the gate. Crazy and Al queue for overpriced food at an outside caterer's food hut. The guy takes an age in serving up. Why they couldn't just provide pie, chips and peas in the clubhouse, I do not know. I decide to starve and suck on a throat lozenge as Beverley attack the goal I stand behind. They go close twice before breaking the deadlock on the stroke of half time. They're well drilled and play a beautiful game.

The visitors are Frickley Athletic, who are based in South Elmsall, in West Yorkshire. I had a bit of bother in that area earlier in the season, whilst watching a Sheffield and Hallamshire League game, from some sewer-mouthed Neanderthals who felt it ok to abuse match officials.

Crazy and Al are holed up in the cosy and warm clubhouse watching the latest scores on Soccer Saturday. I venture out and brave the elements. I stand on the far side where Beverley have caused the most damage. I meet a lovely couple from Hull who have been following the Beavers for a few seasons. They tell me that the team managed to get to 103 points last season, which wasn't enough to win the League. They also say that their leading scorer left the club this week to join Bridlington Town.

I say that I rate the 4 jacket Nathan Ofori just as he gets on the ball inside the Frickley half. He goes on a mazy run before unleashing a curling left-footed shot from distance which beats the outstretched hand of the visiting 'keeper. It's his 100th appearance and first goal of the season. He has been a colossus in the middle of the park.

I drag Steve and Al out of the warmth. We head to the car for a quick getaway as the 400 pluscrowd will walk down the narrow drive we drove up. Beverley Town is a lovely, friendly club that's well worth a visit.

Attendance: 422

Man of the Match: Nathan Ofori

Beer of the Week: Magical Twilight, Pennine Brewery 3.7% ABV

Notts County 1-2 Walsall

It's 3pm on Christmas Eve and I'm packing up the stall outside MSR News, on Front Street, in Arnold, after ten consecutive days of selling chocolate in wintry conditions. Today has been a bumper sales day as panicking husbands, sons and boyfriends look to buy a last minute gift for their loved ones. Panic on the streets of Arnold. The 1 kg Toblerone bar, that's going for £10, is a steal and the star of the show - even I manage to bag one to gnaw on during the festive period.

Jim Royle has moved out of his armchair more than Sticky Palms over the next few days. I make the occasional journey to the garage to pluck another craft ale can from out of the festive box that was supplied by House of Trembling Madness in York.

I meet 'Our Joe' and Sticky jnr in enemy territory, at Portello Lounge Cafe Bar, on The Avenue, in West Bridgford, early on Friday afternoon. We enjoy some late lunch with soft refreshments as the lads are driving. I hook up with blog legend Tony Mac as I swing through town on my way back to Chez Palms. We enjoy a few ales at the Cock and Hoop (the artist formerly known as County Tavern) having previously dropped down Hockley, where we found a bustling and lively Six Barrels on top form. It's the time of year for plum porters and cinnamon stouts, that can warm up the beer coat in these cold and biting conditions.

Ms Moon drops me off down Stoke Lane on Saturday afternoon. The visitors today are Garforth Town AFC, a town which is in the metropolitan borough of the City of Leeds. You may remember the pioneer and founder of Brazilian Samba Soccer Schools, Simon Clifford, was involved at the club back in the early noughties. He even persuaded, in 2004, the legendary chain-smoking Brazilian international Socrates to turn out for Garforth at the ripe old age of 50 years old. Clifford was later to join Clive Woodward at Southampton FC as Head of Sports Science.

There is another player who I've an interest in, who plays for Garforth. Matty Antcliffe lived at the top of my road and was an exciting young prospect for Keyworth United. He played elsewhere at 18 years old as he would have never developed under the senior regime at KUFC at the time. I recommended him for a two month trial at Notts County when he was 16 years old. The academy director was former Wimbledon and Millwall centre forward Jon Goodman. He was impressed with Matty but was unable to offer him a scholarship.

Carlton's form has been patchy to say the least. They did show signs of improvement seven days ago when beating East Riding of Yorkshire's Bridlington Town 3-2. They lost in their latest outing 1-0 to Sherwood Colliery on Boxing Day - once again being reduced to ten men, a recurring theme.

I stand with Faggsy on the far side of the ground. We are joined, shortly after kick off, by Matt Dring. The Millers take the lead following a superb long distance strike by Khyle Sargent. Garforth looks dangerous with Antcliffe impressive. Lawrence Gorman doubles the lead for Carlton from close range. The visitors deservedly reduce arrears shortly before the break.

DJ Murph is spinning the tunes at the break. There was a stinging attack on social media from some Herbert associated with Brid, the previous week. He took exception to Casually Dan's playlist. Sorry mate we don't play the Kaiser Chiefs, McFly and Mel B 'down the lane.'

The game ebbs and flows. Carlton look to have secured victory with a magnificent solo goal by crowd favourite Lamin Manneh. But it takes two breathtaking saves from 'Felix the Cat' to get the Millers over the line. Some goon of a visiting supporter thought it would be funny to pinch the Ghanaian flag that is unfurled each game behind Felix's goal. It's a country he has represented at football. Thankfully the flag was chased down and returned to the clubhouse, to the delight of cheery, beery supporters.

It's the supporters' Christmas piss up this evening. I manage a couple in the clubhouse and a few in the Partizan Tavern and King Billy before jumping aboard the 9 pm bus to Carlton. Shop duties await in the early hours of the morning.

I volunteered to work the early (4am) shift on New Year's Day at the shop. It has an impact on any celebratory drinks, but I've never been a big fan to be honest. I've clocked that there's an early showing at Just the Tonic Comedy Club, up at Metronome, a venue that I'm fond of. We enjoy all three comedians and the compere Jon Pearson who is dead funny too. Don't sit on the front row, he'll savage you.

It's a nightmare shift at the shop in the morning because, for some unknown reason, the newspapers are late arriving from London. I'm still stressed out when Ms Moon very kindly picks me up just after midday. I have a quick nap before the good lady drops me off in Lady Bay Retail Park.

It's a League Two top of the table clash that's not to be missed. I bagged a ticket a few days ago from a very efficient and friendly member of staff in the ticket office. I take my pew in a busy Derek Pavis Stand. Walsall are unbeaten in their last 16 games. Notts have been inconsistent. The message board keyboard warriors want the manager to be removed. The Pies' Danish owners are more measured, considered and patient.

After a bright opening for the Saddlers, the Pies begin to get on top. Dan Crowley is running rings around them. Their Gambian striker, Alassana Jatta, somehow manages to miss a sitter after rounding the 'keeper - credit to the visiting defender for an incredible clearance off the line. Jatta doesn't have to wait long, as Notts get their noses in front.

The Walsall manager is seething and doesn't muck about during the break. Two of his players are hooked. They are a different force in the second 45 minutes. Notts are pinned back in their own half. Everything comes down the Walsall left hand side. The equaliser is fortuitous, but the winner comes from a breathtaking passage of play. This stunning game of football reaches its crescendo with a McGoldrick header marginally chalked off for offside, in the dying moments of the match.

It's Friday morning, and as per usual I'm waiting for a train. Ms Moon and I are away for the weekend in the Cathedral city of Chester, which lies on the River Dee, on the edge of the England/Wales border. 'It's all change at Crewe' as we hop on a Transport for Wales train.

We check-in at Hotel Indigo before walking into town. I always like to support independent restaurants if I can. We have tapas at a lovely place called Blue Bell. Never one to miss an opportunity, I notice on the Good Beer Guide app that Chester has 9x pub entries. The Cavern of the Curious Gnome is a Belgium-themed bar, that's perched upon one of the city's famous rows. I dash around a few more pubs whilst Ms Moon gets ready for the evening out.

Chester's pub scene is thriving in the Canal Quarter. We see a few more off in the evening, finishing it off in a stunning waterside bar called Telford's Warehouse.

Breakfast is spent at the delightful Zugers. We walk it off down the River Dee before climbing up the steps to do the Grade 1 listed City Walls tour, which takes you past Chester Racecourse and the Castle. We rest up back at the hotel, whilst listening to the football scorers coming in. We dine at an Italian restaurant in the city centre called La Fattoria, which has impressive google reviews. The food is fabulous and the ambience is charming. I can't half pick 'em. Where's all this snow they forecast? More on that next week.

Attendance: 12,610 (1,894 from Walsall)

Man of the Match: Liam Gordon