If the last year has taught us one thing, it’s not to waste a day. I suspect Mariah Carey has sung a song about it.
As soon as the road map was announced, Mrs RM started to plan our road trips for when pubs and hotels were open again. I left her to it, so I could blame her when it all went wrong when the pubs were shut.
Only as our trip grew closer that it actually dawn on me that she’d picked the week that pubs re-opened to walk across the pub wasteland that is Hadrian, and that I’d be looking on jealously as Simon compiled a break of 39 new GBG ticks while I struggled for a quick single in Whitley Bay.
Only joking (possibly). I’d been wanting to walk the Wall for years, and after that emotional reunion with Spoons and Doom Bar on the Heaventeenth, I was thrilled to be leaving the GBG riches of Yorkshire for the wastelands of the North (the real North).
Mrs RM insisted we got to Sheffield Station an hour early, JUST IN CASE, which at least have us time for a half inside the Tap.
I was only here on the forecourt a fortnight ago, unwisely after a session in Stockport, but stepping inside is a different world.
The nice lady asked to see my NHS check-in, but not Mrs RM’s which just proves that I’m less trustworthy than my wife.
I’d just missed Sheffield Hatter, who was busy saving pubs, and at 3pm the bar was quieter than expected, which meant Baa Baa had time to stretch out on my rucksack and enjoy the elegance of the former station waiting room.
The seating was comfy, the staff informative when a tourist from Barnsley asked about the ales, and their Tapped beers were both gorgeous.
But please, no more “More Than A Feeling” on the playlist, eh ?
Ten minutes later, we were off.