Our lovely septuagenarian neighbours popped round the other night to tell us about a little problem that I’ll entertain you with later.
It’s the first time we’ve spoke since Christmas, and I wouldn’t know they’re next door if it wasn’t for the huge “YEEEESSSSS !” when Sheffield United score (Jan 17th, I think).
We compared notes on our Lockdown walks and the prospects for a wine pub garden pint in April. By law everyone in Sheffield is a Pub Person.
“You should go to the Rivelin Hotel“
That’s the ONLY pub in my designated part of the city I haven’t been to, so we headed there on Wednesday.
We could walk there (A) in 40 minutes, and it would save you the hassle of parking on tiny Tofts Lane, but Mrs RM harboured ambitions of a return to Our Cow Molly’s (essential) ice cream parlour afterwards.
After 2 months of mild but soggy weather, the sun has been out and the footpaths are drying up a bit. James set off at a furious pace up Coppice Lane toward Stannington, where he’s heard there were fish and chips glorious views over the valley.
And there were. You can see for miles, the view stretching towards the Derbyshire police vans picking up serious criminals out walking in the Peaks carrying flasks.
The Rivelin Valley is the Peaks on the cheap, free of tourists, postcards and overpriced tarts.
Though to be fair a personalised large Bakewell pudding would possibly have contained less calories than our lunch at Yanni’s in sprawling Stannington.
We must find a Sheffield takeaway that sells fat-free chips, or perhaps just buy one portion between three, as I doubt the hour’s walk was enough to cancel out the calories we consumed in 37 seconds.
Back down in what the OS calls “the Glen“, we thought we’d done quite well, admiring our newly-stretched calf muscles by the babbling brooks.
But then felt grumpy we couldn’t wash away the taste of cod and chips in the rambling beer gardens of The Rivelin for another SIX weeks.
They’ll definitely be opening on the Glorious 12th; they’ve even built this hill behind the pub for overflow drinking.
Bradfield Farmer’s Blonde and Thwaites – can’t wait.
retiredmartin 
In most side by side homes like yours would you expect to hear sound from the neighbors? I’ve often wondered how sound proof those types of homes are.
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This is the first semi-detached house I’ve lived in since I was 22, and that had paper thin walls.
It’s a 1968 house here, so I’d expect decent brickwork. I think we’re lucky to have some quiet retirees as neighbours (as opposed to noisy beery neighbours with a 21 year old son who plays video games late and an ongoing DIY project).
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I was guessing the year built and type of neighbor would matter a lot. Older construction can’t have foreseen the volume we can now play devices at in the home. The new neighbor’s being friendly must mean the sound you’re making isn’t too bad:) Deaf retirees can be a good or bad thing. They can’t hear you, good thing; they can’t hear their TV, bad thing.
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Yes, worth remembering that music wasn’t invented till 1956, Hi-Fi till 1967 (I think I have those dates correct).
I don’t think the neighbours are deaf, they’re actually very sharp as well as friendly. We don’t have music or TV on that much and I’m going to set up the record player to play “Blonde on Blonde” in the other side of the house.
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Play it loud and then play Love and Theft!
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I see you’re being led by the dates when the liar-in-chief specifically told you that the relaxation of the lockdown rules is going to be led by the data. The fact that he then went on to give several dates while strangely neglecting to mention any data parameters may have misled you. And everyone else.
Maybe see you in the queue outside the Rivelin!
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You’re right, but if the determinant for re-opening pub gardens was a data point you can bet it would be one we’ll never achieve.
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By the by, how many queues did you notice outside Sheffield pubs on July 4th last year ? Not many on my travels, more outside coffee shops in Heeley !
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I didn’t go to any pubs on the 4th – I was worried it might be unsafe. I went to the Gardeners Rest the next day, in the afternoon. It was very quiet, with most people going straight through to the garden.
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“to tell us about a little problem that I’ll entertain you with later.”
I’m all agog.
“and I wouldn’t know they’re next door if it wasn’t for the huge “YEEEESSSSS !” when Sheffield United score (Jan 17th, I think).”
(slow golf clap)
“That’s the ONLY pub in my designated part of the city I haven’t been to, so we headed there on Wednesday.”
I shan’t comment on the OS map, except to say, there’s a lot of crooks down south. 😉
“but Mrs RM harboured ambitions of a return to Our Cow Molly’s (essential) ice cream parlour afterwards.”
Break it to Mrs RM gently that ice cream doesn’t come from cows (per se), and she can buy it in the store. 😉
“James set off at a furious pace up Coppice Lane toward Stannington, where he’s heard there were (fish and chips) glorious views over the valley.”
Blimey. He looks like a deep sea diver!
“The Rivelin Valley is the Peaks on the cheap, free of tourists, postcards and overpriced tarts.”
I didn’t have you down as someone who is knowledgeable of ladies of the evening. 🙂
“as I doubt the hour’s walk was enough to cancel out the calories we consumed in 37 seconds.”
The ’37 seconds’ bit should be a hint that you’d worked off enough calories to consume it!
“But then felt grumpy we couldn’t wash away the taste of cod and chips in the rambling beer gardens of The Rivelin for another SIX weeks.”
(shakes fist at bloody governments everywhere!)
“they’ve even built this hill behind the pub for overflow drinking.”
I think that was Merlin’s backup sanctuary, should Wales decide to secede. 😉
Cheers!
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