We didn’t get much snow in Waterbeach, the driest place in England, and it was a shock to wake up yesterday and see urchins sliding down the hill opposite our house.
“They’ll catch Covid !” screamed Wonderful Walkley Facebook Group.
“Get a life” replied Wonderful Walkley Facebook Group.
“Don’t leave the house” said Mrs RM. “I’m not visiting you in Sheffield General if you slip over“.
The (lovely) previous owners had warned about the rain,
but there’s been hardly a drop to disrupt my wanders down to closed pubs.
But the white stuff caused no end of problems for buses, Ocado delivery drivers and walkers, and I didn’t venture out till well past 4.
I know Duncan is looking for a mascot to match Colin and Baa Baa; how about this chap ?
At the top of Carr Road I reach The Rose, the lone Proper Pub left on Walkley’s main drag.
Every time I go past I mutter “Open the pubs !” to myself, though I know they can’t, yet.
See what I’ve got to look forward to;
Next to the Rose, opposite the (quite smart) Asda Local, there’s a pocket park where you can imagine the good folk of Walkley congregating to celebrate the re-opening of pubs.
For now, I succumb again to Walkley Beer Co, the ever-cheerful offie/micro whose cask has now settled.
I’d had the De La Senne the night before and thought “Mmm, nice, but I’m missing cask“.
The Redwillow, decanted into my trust Bass glass, proved why cask is the pinnacle etc etc etc.
But really, it’s pubs, any pub, I’m missing.
I’ve had enough snow now, Laura.