We didn’t visit Colyton. In fact, until a few days ago I knew virtually nothing about it. We were simply driving through Devon on our way to Lyme Regis when a roadside sign caught my attention. Goose Fayre. Now, as a Nottingham boy, I have certain proprietary instincts where those two words are concerned. Admittedly ours is generally spelled Fair…

I have two of Mr Naylor’s medals. He didn’t leave them to me. After he died, I found them among the things in his house after his belongings had been picked through by fairly distant relatives. I couldn’t bear the thought of them simply disappearing. They were wrapped in waxed paper, tucked inside a small, battered cardboard box marked OHMS…

Title irresistibly pilfered from the excellent Gaz Brookfield's 'Limelight' I’ve always hated the term “Hell Hounds”. For the uninitiated, it’s a name adopted by some of the more dedicated followers of Ferocious Dog. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with it. People like belonging to things, people like having names for the things they belong to, and if calling yourself a Hell Hound makes you happy then you should absolutely crack on.

Somewhere underneath the landscaping, redevelopment and general passage of more than thirty years, I like to imagine there is still a faint chalk mark on a forgotten piece of concrete at the former Gedling Colliery. KAOS. There almost certainly isn’t. The surface I wrote it on has probably long since disappeared, and chalk was never built for posterity. But for a brief period in the early 1990s, KAOS was my tag.