The move to Sheffield has put me within reach of a vast swathe of That Yorkshire which I’ve given short shrift to over the decades. Like Kirklees, the filling in the midddle (?) of the Manc/Leeds/Sheff triangle;
While some places drag you back every year with new craft bars (Halifax) or rumours of top Bass (anywhere Beer Mat goes), Dewsbury stays below the radar, waving you on towards the bright lights of Bradford and Brighouse.
In fact, I can only name one GBG entry round here off t’ top o’ my head, that long-running station bar.
But look at those curves below the Flatt Top on Thornhill Edge !
There’s a posh sculpture park down the road at Bretton (never been) and a a not-posh mining museum in Middletown, but it’s the views from the ridge running south of Thornhill you should divert from the M1 for.
There’s an eerie looking church as well, built to provide for the spiritual needs of drinkers at the Saville Arms, which I DO now recall from a flying visit c.2002 (Black Sheep, NBSS 3.5).
Why did no-one tell me about Thornhill ? Or DID they tell me, just in a funny Horbury accent like Big Brother 8’s Chanelle.
Anyway, I’m rambling. Here’s the Flatt Top from the more difficult western approach;
That patio overlooking the valley is both the highlight and the only place I’ll be drinking today.
But is it open ? Well, it’s well gone the 2pm date Facebook suggests, but then it IS bucketing down so I’m not surprised.
Who on earth would stand in the rain with a pint, just to save pubs ?
Pick me ! Pick me !
After a few minutes the landlord wanders out and stares into the clouds.
“Are y’open ?”
“Aye” I may have got the accent wrong.
It takes me a minute to work out where to go. Do you i) enter via the side (below) to go straight to the garden, ii) go in the open door marked “Lounge”, or follow the landlord through the loos to the bar ?
Always pick iii). At least I get to SEE the bar, even if it’s not long enough to identify the film.
The landlord is great, bemoaning the rain without moaning, if you know what I mean.
“What y’aving ?“
“What y’got ?”
Abbeydale Moonshine or Tetley. It seems to be expected I’ll have the Moonshine, and the Tets clip is garbage, isn’t it ?
Apologetically, he motions me outside to the terrace. It’s covered, and a solitary gap in the canvas allows a drip into the Foster’s jug carrying out a noble purpose.
The Moonshine is ccol, crisp and wonderful (NBSS 3.5+) and I rejoice in my role is saving pubs.
“See ya pal” says the landlord.