“How far are you from the seaside ?” asked Dad, after I’d taken him and Mum for their second Pfizer jab on Sunday night (thank you, NHS).
Old people are OBSSESSED by the seaside, aren’t they.
I care little for the sea; just give me hills.
That’s one of many steep walks you can do just off the dreary A61 out of Sheffield to the (non-dreary) Chesterfield.
Mrs RM despatched me out to mysterious Meersbrook, to pick up a portable heater from Dunelm. I’m afraid this is the sort of domestic detail you’re going to get now pubs are out-of-bounds, even for takeout ;-(.
The strip of retail parks and carpet shops along the A61 to Norton Woodseats is fairly grim, but there’s always a secret (steep) stairway to magic not far away.
In this case, it leads to a Thornbridge pub. “Oooh, preemptive tick”, I think, before remembering you-know-what.
Actually, this is Norton Lees; it’s so hard to keep up with the geography round here.
It was so much simpler in JMW Turner’s day, when he painted this view of Sheffield.
How many micropubs can you identify in Joseph’s picture ?
Rather more in my photo from a similar spot at the top of Meersbrook Park yesterday.
I guess I’ll have plenty of time to explore the sprawling suburbs over the next six weeks or so, and bring you potential Brunning & Price sites like the Bishop’s House.
Meresbrook Park is another sprawling gem, lacking only the babbling brooks of Greaves Park up the road, and a decent pub at the foot of the hill.
No wonder this chap looks so grumpy. Make a good avatar for some people I know.