Apart from walking hills with your whippet, the top semi-legal activity in Sheffield is visiting ghost signs.
This one in Kelham seems to be for Lilliput Wives, which were only outlawed in 1973.
No relation to Lilliput Wives at all, Mrs RM despatched me to Homebase just south of the city to collect something called a radiator cover. It’s opposite the Dunelm I was sent to last month, so I already had a
pub route in mind.
That route takes you past the “Antiques Quarter” of Heeley, where lots of pashmina and bobbled hats were gathered on the pavement queueing for artisan coffees.
Apart from that, the A61 was far quieter than I’ve ever seen it, and Homebase had a grand total of 7 cars outside.
I took the steep hill down from mumsy Meerbrook to naughty Norton Hammer, which is less exciting than it sounds.
Some people are fussing over foreign holidays this year; I just want to walk round northern housing estates snapping Ind Coope Burton ghost signs, and go in the occasional pub.
It’s a quaint old place, catering to all rather than the Untappd ticker. Cask from Ashover, cans from Sweden, Guinness from Guinnessland.
Cans are shiny and full of strong beer, but you can’t beat real ale like the gorgeously rich Zoo from the Peaks.
Someone should set up an organisation to promote it.