At 3pm yesterday, when Mrs RM had her back turned, I sneaked out into the snow like a naughty child.
“Don’t fall over and be a burden on the NHS !” she shouted.
Some of us wear appropriate footwear and have natural padding.
I DIDN’T fall over, but I did take it slow up and down the hills leading to Sheffield’s northern parks.
Just as there is an infinite number of routes from Piccadilly Station to the Etihad, I’m determined to find a different trail everyday from home to nowhere.
Imagine my delight as I edged down through the estates overlooking the Ponderosa, to the attractive sounding Martin Street.
and noticed an authentically un-woke pub sign. Oooh, had I found an unmapped boozer ?
Sadly, I quickly realised this was the front of the dead Boomerang (it’s not coming back) I’d seen from the back last month, long converted to student accommodation.
I suppose that leaving the old pub sign up helps the students find their way home.
Plenty of recent students out and about in Crookes Valley, where I slid down for my next look for a new pub to add to the To Do list.
The Dam House looks quite lovely, but then so does that Old Rectory overlooking the church in Stockport.
What Pub reckons you’ll get Wentworth beer here; I see only Doom Bar.
One for the list, clearly. Doom Bar is as rare as Bass in Sheffield.
Into lovely Weston Park, home of the social history museum and statues of people called Ebeneezer.
Some people were sitting down, drinking Starbucks, so I moved on before Derbyshire police arrived from over the border to make arrests.
Time for some modernism.