At some point in 1992, my brother after a period of nomadic existence moved to and still resides in Nottingham. Thus, for a period of 25 years we frequented just shy of 50 random venues for gigs in and around the city.
This curtailed around 3.5 years ago when I had to cut off all contact with my brother and parents for reasons that currently look irreconcilable. Anyone close enough to me to know the circumstances will know that I had no choice or the decision to walk away was one that I would take lightly.
So, back in the mists of time my first trip over to Nottingham was at the back end of 1992. On my arrival in the Robin Hood city I was imbued with a powerful sense of déjà vu but in a comforting way despite never having visited previously.
From Preston there were two main travel options, one via M61, M62 and M1. That journey route was once dramatically delayed by my placing diesel into a petrol car necessitating in breaking down and being towed back followed by an engine drain, we arrived rather late that day – heigh ho!
The other route was via the M6 and A50 which became my preferred option, though it once took me a tortuous 4 hours to travel to Stoke. This resulted in a decision that on future journeys I would never set off any later than noon on a Friday. Vaguely interesting fact on that route is that it traverses across 6 separate counties – namely Lancashire, Cheshire, Staffordshire, Derbyshire, Leicestershire and finally Nottinghamshire.
Conversely if you got a clean run on either route, you could complete the journey in just over 2 hours. Trains were not an instantly viable alternate as any cross-country route in England is challenging. John and George once took the train and had a horror journey epitomised by the train running at about 5mph from Sheffield to Nottingham through outposts like Chinley!
For a time, Sean lived in a flat off Mansfield Rd which resulted in many visits to the Peacock and the Golden Fleece pubs followed by visits to the Chand, a cheap and cheerful Indian, which is sadly now long gone.
He then lived at Gedling, which was a bit further out of town. I recall there was a Cheesecake shop nearby, which regretfully we only frequented once.
His main dwelling for years was a property in Forest Fields. At the bottom of his road were the meadows where the Goose Fair, a huge travelling funfair, is held every October. One on my trips coincided with the fair visiting and I can confirm it was on a colossal scale. He had some interesting boozers nearby which will be covered in future articles.
A few years after he moved to that area a tram network was created and a stop built 5 minutes’ walk from his dwelling which served to inflate his property valuation. It also made the commute to and from the city an easier proposition or was alternatively about a 30-minute walk.
Alongside music, Nottingham trips have also been synonymous with football. There were a couple of trips to watch North End at Chesterfield, one involving purchasing a beverage at the ground called Tea of Life that was so insipid it was rechristened Tea of Death! The other involved a visit to the Crooked Spire pub prior to the game which remains one of the most threatening pubs I have ever frequented.
We visited Notts County where we performed daylight robbery to win 3-2 with an injury time winner created by a wonder cross from Lee Cartwright. There were also 2 visits to Forest, one an uneventful draw, the other the most staggeringly inept display of refereeing by Barry Knight resulting in inevitable defeat and us finishing with 9 men.
Now, please don’t tar me as being myopic when it comes to the men in the middle as I can only think of 2 other occasions in around 1000 PNE games I have viewed where I would contend referees have adversely affected the result.
One final soccer reference would be during the 2002 World Cup when games were played at odd times due to South Korea and Japan being the hosts. So, one Sunday we headed to a rum Irish club called Greyfriars on the edge of town to watch Republic of Ireland v Spain with a 12.30 dinnertime kick off.
The curtains were closed, and the place was packed, resulting in a belting atmosphere and Guinness flowed freely before the Irish eventually and unfortunately lost on penalties. We stumbled out half cut about 4pm and the mid-afternoon sun was absolutely blinding!
