By contrast Glossop to Sheff is a bit of a sod by rail; better to walk across the little hill.
Mrs RM remembered Glossop fondly from a wet and wintry night in 2015 poorly captured on my nascent blog.
She remembered the green hills and big skies.
She remembered the striking architecture.
She remembered the cobbled streets.
She remembered the cutting-edge ice cream.
But most of all she remembered the “help yourself wine bar” at Harvey Leonard’s, which had used Mrs RM’s custom to fund an expansion into the former Conservative Club.
Harvey’s was closed so we ended up in the Spoons. I know there’s better pubs (Crown, Star, Globe) but let’s face it, they don’t do pizza and a beer for a fiver.
Visiting Spoons post 4/7 is instructional.
Sparkling surfaces being vigorously cleaned by staff, tables further apart, perspex dividers at the booths and the bar. And no bar flies. We both like “No bar flies“.
The investment was largely successful; there were a few gentlefolk braving a return to the Smithy Fold, though a year ago you wouldn’t have got a table here.
Mrs RM chose badly, ignoring the charms of Stancil in favour of the Blonde Witch (NBSS 3+), though it WAS perfectly chosen to match the Margherita (very good, feeds two). Just think, in 2 weeks time they’ll be paying you to eat their pizza (T & C apply).
Some folk believe Glossop is in the Midlands. You’ll only find a head like that in the North, sunshine.
A Northern looking Gent asked politely if he could play the fruit machines.
It made it seem more pubby, though I’m not sure hanging around playing the machines is quite what I expected to see in the New Normal.
As for Glossop, it would be my choice, if the right property came up. And if I could claim it for the North.