April 13th. Day 2 of the Great (Semi) Reopening. Oh, and “EVERY PUB IN SHEFFIELD ON FOOT – No. 1“.
We stayed local.
When we arrived in Sheffield back before Christmas, the Walkley Cottage looked like this;
Now, new landlord installed in time for the 12th, the scaffolding has gone, but my dodgy photography (I blame the sun) thankfully remains.
Mrs RM had to drop a hard disk at the house of a bloke who was re-installing my entire collection of digital music after it was swiped when we moved house. I’m very suspicious about this digital fad, but will be very glad to get my Boney M B-sides back.
After Manic Monday had seen us both fail to get a seat for a beer, I was despatched to hog a table in the garden 20 minutes before opening while this technical stuff happened.
Obviously you can’t just sit down at a table, you have to do the whole “Squirt, Sign-in, Seated” thing, so at least I got a view of the inside.
The Cottage had been, as they say, “rammed” on opening night. Out of my eyeline, a local lady came to the door just to ask whether they’d been busy.
“My “partner” likes beer, he’ll visit. But save some wine for me ! Ha ha“
She then asked whether she could book on-line but claimed not to have Facebook, presumably because of the Zuckerberg thing.
Oooh look, a beer menu.
“Two pints of the Bradfield Blonde please“
“Sorry, we sold out a week’s supply of the ale yesterday“
You’re then obliged to say things like “Well done you !” and “Better beer selling fast than sitting in the pipes” and “Well, another John Smith’s Smooth it is then“.
Goodness, that looks decadent. Pasta, calamari rings and fluffy chips. Comfort food in the sun, I guess.
I’m getting a bit too used to the Smooth, and sank two pints in the hour.
We were joined in the garden by your archetypal masked-up dungaree wearing Sheffield family, who looked at us and headed for the plastic rocking horse. The squeals of the children (Emma and Rosie) were a delight.
As was the Walkley.
NB : One other thing of note. The bill was £29.15, not bad. “Call it £35” I said, handing over two £20 notes. A minute later, back comes the lass with a fiver and 85p in coins. “Oh, keep the change” I say, gesturing at the coins. “You sure ?” she asks, then seems confused when I withdraw the fiver.
For five marks, explain this. With diagrams.