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.