Just back from a walk round a Hillsborough bursting to get back to life. The park next to Wednesday was clear of rubbish, folk keeping 60 feet apart, and a new craft beer bar is about to liven super-trad Middlewood Road, until recently the exclusive province of family butchers and discount stores.
Hillsborough Fencing suggest this model with a serving hatch for when we install a microbrewery as required under local Sheffield by-laws;
I still have no idea what I’ll be doing on the Glorious 12th. Indecisive, that’s me.
The local Spoons certainly appeals, and has a giant garden (top) alongside the Don.
Not exactly designed for the Ethels and Ednas who will presumably head back to Spoons for coffee and Eggs Benny on the 12th, and goodness knows what they’ll say when they can’t go inside for the coffee machine.
One thing for sure, I’m not booking. The last time I made a booking was on 27 June 1992, when I had to comply with prevailing social norms by booking ahead my wedding to Mrs RM (I believe she had to prepare for the event). I only tell you this now on the off chance one of you might remind me on the 26th June this year.
I’m certainly not making a future commitment to have a quick half, and I doubt pubs would want me taking up tables for 2 hours if I did.
As Pub Curmudgeon sagely notes;