I know you’re desperate to read about my birthday (22/12, listed in all good 2021 diaries).
2020 was always going to struggle against recent birthdays in Morocco, Havana, Barrow and New Brighton.
But the sun rose, marking 56 years on earth. I always say if I reach 62 I’ll finish the GBG and emulate Duncan.
Having reached 94% in March I actually thought I might beat that timescale, but events, dear boy, events.
No ticks this 22/12, no travel outside Sheffield.
But I did manage a walk with Mrs RM on the edge of the Peak this morning, just 3 miles from home.
A crisp, bright morning, ideal to explore Dungworth. It’s as picturesque as it sounds.
“The village pub has long been a centre of village life, games of Knurr and Spell were played in the 1920s and there were clubs for fishing, running, football and cricket. At Christmas time people have sung local songs in the pub for over 200 years“. Wiki.
Knurr and Spell were, of course, renowned craft brewers in Kelham Island in the 1780s.
The Royal Hotel resists such nonsense, offering (checks notes) Bradfield. Is that craft ?
I’d picked an easy circular walk that Mrs RM couldn’t complain about and ended with ice cream.
AND I’d never been to Storrs before. If Dungworth is a hamlet, Storrs is barely that.
It’s all happening at Our Cow Mollie farm, provider of Sheffield’s best milk and most curious cows.
I went for the double scoop; Cora’s Chaos (jelly !) and the vanilla. THAT’S craft.
652 calories there, and another 3,048 in the 5 litre keg we then picked up from Bradfield. Is it all brewed in Stockport now ?
The Belgian Blue had just sold out, good for them. So Mrs RM chose the Blonde.
I made a HUGE mess of releasing the pressure from the top of the barrel, but I thing the carpet will dry.
Home drinking, retiredmartin ? Are you going soft ?