Another shopping expedition to Meersbrook, another Click-and-Collect at Homebase, another mysterious “drill bit” added to Mrs RM’s burgeoning collection. She’s going to chop me up and bury me in the little wood shed in the garden, you know.
Homebase had my packages ready; Mrs RM has reached “favoured customer” status already.
On the return I stopped in ANOTHER retail park on the A61 to explore. The pashmina’s queue for Create Coffee stretched back from Heeley to Dronfield, so I headed west under the train line towards Abbeydale Road, where the headwear is more traditional.
Away from the falafel, cupcakes and model railway shops of Hackney-lite Heeley, Nether Edge offers more traditional pubbing.
Well, I shall have to go to all the Sheffield Hungry Horses to compare the IPA, I suppose.
Will wrote “Interestingly, this one has six hand pumps on the bar, with Greene King IPA, Abbot Ale and Old Speckled Hen, Timothy Taylor Landlord, Abbeydale Moonshine and a “guest”: GK Grubber, a Six Nations-themed beer.” but only scored it 5/10. I guess it’s marked down for the rugby-themed beer.
Abbeydale Road is bustling with social distancing, if that’s not a contradiction. Everyone wears face masks outside in Sheffield, and would rather throw themselves in front of an oncoming tram than come with 2 metres of you on the pavement.
I stand in the road to take a pic of the Broadfield. It’s my job, and I can’t do it at home, can I ?
I can tell a pub from the tiling. The blue tiling tells me the Broadfield is aimed at the Sunday Lunch family market, offering a pie menu, gin and Abbeydale Moonshine. Even NINE beers can’t get you in the GBG in Sheffield, though; they should move to Mansfield. I thought it looked a rowdier nephew of The York, and the reliable Will Larter confirms it is/was.
Mind, it had TEN beers on when Will went. See how far Sheffield has fallen in offering choice.
A-ha ! It’s my ghost sign fix. Not as good as the Ind Coope one down the road, but it’ll do.
Then a lady with a sausage dog shuffles towards me. And waits. No idea why, so I wait too. Eventually I get bored and climb a hill.
I thought she was going to follow me up, but the sausage dog couldn’t be bothered, so I had the view to myself.
To you it’s a mound, to a Cambridge boy it’s a mountain.
Find out later if I got down safely.