James is safely settled into his new digs for Year 2 at Sheffield Uni, his toaster checked by his Mum and found to be fully functional. Microwaves can wait till Year 3.
I think you’re supposed to leave your children to their own devices when they’re at Uni. But, hey, this is Sheffield, where you can combine parental duty with ticking.
On Saturday, we explored Neepsend. I don’t think it has its own Tourist Office.
This is the view when you emerge from James’ residences. Proper Sheffield.
Mrs RM was intent on an afternoon shopping. I wasn’t so keen.
“Have you explored around here yet James“. So far he’s only walked through Kelham en route to Uni.
“Let’s go north. There’ll be a beer for your Mum“. Mrs RM forgot the shopping.
So instead of the Fat Cat we crossed the Don.
James at least has inherited my love of pointless street art,
some of which was being freshly applied in Ball Street.
Gentrification is edging beyond Kelham Island; we passed wine bars, thali cafés, and a craft beer place called The Old Workshop.
“Why aren’t we stopping there ?”
She doesn’t get ticking does she ?
We pressed on through the tunnel to the slightly less gentrified heart of Neepsend.
A neighbourhood pub which felt surprisingly simple compared to the rest of the Valley of Beer, and none the worse for it. A couple of lads playing pool, locals talking Owls v Leeds, usual pub stuff. It looks like the pub in “Full Monty” said someone, though that was as much about the view back over the city.
We went for the homebrew, resisting the lure of the Stones. Somehow.
£2.70 bought us two halves, a soda water (probably free) and a bag of those Snyders pretzels that cost £1.50 in Cambridge. Bargain land.
In fact the only place I know as cheap is Glossop’s Globe, whose homebrew is equally idiosyncratic. I think you know what I mean.
Sadly, the jukebox wasn’t plugged in so no “Lady in Red“.
We headed back towards cosier Kelham.
“Are you taking me into the red light area or is that how people dress on Saturday afternoon” whispered Mrs RM, who comes from Tunbridge Wells.
Some of the best pubs in our industrial cities are close to red light areas (I’m told). At least James now knows where to avoid.