Burton manager Gary Bowyer races onto the Meadow Lane pitch to usher away his angry coaching staff, who are about to confront referee Kirsty Dowle. The players haven't made it an easy afternoon for the official, particularly the Dirty Brewers, who have mastered the dark arts of the tactical foul. It looks like it's all being stage-managed by Bowyer, as he himself chases Dowle down the tunnel.
I hang around the Trent Bridge area for a few hours after the match, as I'm attending the 60th birthday celebration of Notts, Non-League, charity football legend Roberto Pietraforte. The party is being held in an upstairs room of The Embankment - formerly Boots Social Club.
I stroll over the bridge and partake in a couple of craft ales at Stratford Haven. Last week's readers will know that I've misplaced my debit card and cancelled it with Nat West Bank. Annoyingly, I found it later on, laid on the bedroom duvet, where I was last seen placing a football bet. Cash is king until Ms Moon tips up in an UBER.
On Sunday lunchtime I have a couple of pints in the King Billy, a wonderful Victorian pub, which is located across the road from Sneinton Market. I graze on a couple of pints of Snake Eyes and a New Zealand pale ale, Ngaru Nui; both are from local brewery Black Iris. I chat to a couple of Brighton fans who are head-in-hands after conceding two early goals at Stamford Bridge, in the 2pm kick off.
On Tuesday I clock off work at midday from MSR News, Arnold's number one paper shop. I alight a Trent Barton bus outside Victoria Centre, where some buffoon thought it fit to close the train station back in 1966 due to a decline in passengers and the Thomas Beeching cuts. A huge faux pas.
I wander through Market Square, where 'Nottingham Beach' is being dismantled. Let's be honest, I'd rather take my granddaughter, Romy Palmer, there, instead of catching the EMR train from hell to Skegness. I have to collect my Portsmouth train tickets from the station in readiness for Friday's trip. I usually have a QR code on my phone, but because I'm using the Tube, it's saying 'tickets collected ONLY' Sting, Greta Thunberg and the Amazon rainforest won't be happy.
A delightful afternoon is whiled away at Trent Bridge Cricket Ground. Notts are in a pickle when I waltz through the gates just after lunch. We're 5 wickets down with not many on the board. England prospects Jack Haynes and Liam Patterson-White won't have done their chances any harm with a remarkable 257 run partnership. I can't 'arf pick 'em.
After close of play I down a pint of a murky New England pale from Pentrich Brewery. I'm sat outside the Fox and Grapes with Faggsy, but not for long as I've an early start in the morning. Ms Moon is in tears on my arrival home. Jimmy from Emmerdale has died in a road accident. I mention he wasn't much cop at acting and was never going to scoop up a TV Times gong. I'm told not to speak ill of the dead. I daren't tell her it's not real.
I wolf down a breakfast early doors on Friday morning at Hungry Pumpkin, a stylish deli cafe that has been run by an Italian family for over 13 years. My train trip takes me to St Pancras, Waterloo and finally Portsmouth and Southsea station. The latter has been open since 1866, and thankfully Dr. Richard Beeching didn't get his grubby mitts on reshaping the future of that particular station.
I wander past Guildhall, The Cenotaph and a statue of Queen Victoria. I'm staying at an IBIS in the city centre. Because it's still the sailing season, hotels at Portsmouth Harbour are still sky high. Check-in is seamless. I'm soon out, about and on my way to Hilsea. I'm still trawling my way through visits to CAMRA Heritage three star and two star pubs. I'm currently approaching the 350 mark, and a couple in the vicinity are on my radar.
The white fluffy clouds are clearing as I peg it 3 miles to The Phoenix. My replacement debit card hasn't arrived so cash is definitely king again for the weekend. Oh FFS what's happened here? The arm on my spectacles has sheared off. Even worse than that is that my phone won't charge. I fret over a pint of Guinness as cheery tradesmen poke fun at one another (bants) after a hard week of graft.
I chance on a tiny mobile phone shop on a street corner up the road. Dave, the owner, is a saviour; what a guy. Looks like my plug has blown up. All is good in the world again. I follow my CAMRA good beer guide for the rest of the evening.
Faggsy tipped me off that the best pubs are situated in Southsea, a seaside resort and residential part of the city. It's cool, hip and 'bougie' as the kids say. The beer entry pubs are classy, with a massive nod to its naval history. My favourite pub is the Auckland Arms, with its jaw-dropping tiled frontage.
I sleep like a log with 10 miles in my legs and 200 miles by train travel. I'm back down Southsea in a 'bougie' cafe. I wait outside for it to open. Within 15 minutes customers are being turned away. The full English, with locally sourced sausage, is mouth-watering. I stretch my legs on the seafront and take a stroll along the 147 year old Pier. The waters are calm and the skies are as clear as a bell.
It's a hike and a half to Heritage pub number two, but well worth the hard yards. The Jolly Taxman dates back to 1914. The landlady is extremely friendly. I've already walked past Fratton Park on my way to the pub. Traffic is building up as I head towards the North Stand. I'm already blown away with the exterior of this historical ground.
My seat gives me a bird's eye view of proceedings. Song of the day is 'Sound of the Crowd' by Human League. It's my second look at Cardiff City. I was impressed with their pattern and speed of play at Pride Park a few weeks ago. There's a nervousness amongst the Pompey faithful following a lacklustre display against Derby, in midweek, that ended in a 2-0 reverse.
Pompey legendary goalkeeper, Alan Knight, passed away a few days ago at the age of 65. He made over 800 appearances for the club. Imagine that happening in today's game. The minute's silence is impeccable and moving (I have goosebumps as I write this).
From minute one the game is played at a fast and furious pace. The Bluebirds fly out of the traps with 'Super Jack Moylan' on top of his game. A back stick header sails over the bar. Pompey have a couple of speedboats bombing up and down their left flank. Brentford youngster, Jayden Meghoma, on debut, catches the eye. He's like a gazelle and eats up the ground. Tyrese Shade is also making his first appearance after Pompey splashed the cash on transfer deadline day. His huge long throw is headed home for the opening goal by Shaughnessy.
The home fans are incredible (as are Cardiff). They both sing their hearts out. Pompey are brave in the challenge and quick on the ball too. Serbian striker Milovanovic looks to have seen them home and hosed. "We've got a big f***ing" Serbian" booms out of the North Stand.
Colby Bishop comes on to play a cameo role. He was released by Notts County at the age of 19, during the rudderless Ray Trew era. He has scored approaching 90 goals for Accrington and Portsmouth since that farcical decision.
Back come Cardiff, but they are having one of those days. Shots are blocked or skew wiff, just like they were in Derby a few weeks ago.
Attendance: 20,459
Player of the Match: Jayden Meghoma
Beer of the Week: Thundercloud Gardens, Pentrich, at Stratford HavenRecord of the Week:
Rose Villas, Life Dealer