This post is brought to you from the (unofficial) car park at Aysgarth Falls.
I’ve checked, and there isn’t a micropub at the bottom.
Last week Citra came to Sheffield. About time too. If he’d given more notice he could have kipped in our new garden shed; same offer I made the in-laws.
15 minutes after arriving home from those very in-laws, I was at the door of the Shakespeare, one of the last of the perennial Sheffield GBG entries I was revisiting for the first time as an official Northerner.
ALL THE PUBS IN SHEFFIELD ON FOOT No.50 – The Shakespeare
It’s the one with the windows dating back to the Bard.
I’d heard mixed reports about the Shakey, but it looked just as good as it on the day of the legendary BRAPA/Coldwell/Roger Protz visit.
And the service was warm and charming.
I ALWAYS fall for the “Blue Bee – good choice !” routine, even if the bar person is clearly a Strongbow Darl Fruits aficionado (they weren’t).
In the garden, Citra wore the look of contentment of a man who recently cheated death, and apologised for not wearing his treasured Doom Bar T-shirt so I could recognise him. I presume that’s his Charles Wells shirt; he loves BBB.
Mick had wanted to meet at the Kelham Island Tavern, whatever that is, and I’d bullied him into what turned out to be his second visit to the Shakespeare that evening.
With about 132 pubs to visit in 3 days, he had no time for return visits.
But the pub was vibrant, with pre-University return youth too, and our Blue Bees were rich and tasty (NSBB 3.5). Well up to Kelham standards, and as Mick said “It’s alright”
And when Mick says a pub is alright, you take as praise indeed.
It was 22:00, well past my bedtime.
“Time for another one ?”