A Tuesday without a new GBG tick, felt like a Tuesday wasted. And who know how many more Tuesdays we have, eh ?
I went for a long aimless walk through Crookes cemetery and unexpectedly found myself outside a GBG pub just as the showers started.
Simon hasn’t made the Itchy Pig yet, so treat this as essential research for BRAPA.
Yes, it’s a micropub, deep in the heart of 1st year studentville, and you know my view on micros.
ALL THE PUBS IN SHEFFIELD ON FOOT No. 42 – Itchy Pig, Broomhill
For the first half hour it felt like a micro. Decent local beer, not much conversation bar one other punter called Robin discussing the Covid stats.
But then I asked him a bit about his experience, a Psychiatric nurse in Rotherham apparently, and within another half an hour, over a gorgeous Chapter Parabola, we knew more about each other than I know about my own children.
We’d both worked in the NHS in North Hertfordshire in the ’90s, both loved the green-tiled pubs in Gosport, and both loved travelling around in a campervan visiting music festivals. Not many folk bond over a shared love of the Queen’s Hotel in Gosport,
I stayed for a Bad Kitty, ALWAYS a bad move, and in that 20 minutes the Itchy Pig came alive with young drinkers and old codgers (mainly me).
Oh dear, my non-drinking day gone to pot, and the record shop I wanted to visit closed.
I had to “capture” a bear in Weston Park to cheer myself up. This one puts me in the leas over Mrs RM.
“Where are you ?” said Mrs RM. “Jus bk sssssoon” I responded.