One of the odd dilemmas of life in Sheffield is that the pubs and scenery is so good that I have to devote some time to the Ticknalls and Tingleys and Thorpe Hesleys rather than the ticks I need in Wales (the actual one, not the one near Worksop).
So on Sunday (ages ago now) Mrs RM and I took the 15 minute ride over the border to Chesterfield, where I’ve had no new pubs to do for many a year.
The trains are busy these days, but buckets of candy floss still get their own table.
Chesterfield is a pretty little place, with cobbled streets and a market where you can still buy a bag of strawberry bon bons for a quid. But ultimately it’s all about this;
The Pig & Pump is the only really central Guide pub these days, but we popped in as it did food. Hopefully quick food, too, as I was off to a big football match in and hour and a half.
Oooh, look at the beer range. Very 2011.
There’s a very Sheffield feel which appeals to groups of nervous students and cocktail lasses and a few Old Boys.
The chap in front, oblivious to the fact that CAMRA thinks Doom Bar is dishwater, ordered a pint the way you might order a schooner of Torrside, so obviously I followed suit.
And I’m glad I did; a cool, mysterious pint of 3.5 Doom that only suffered when compared with the nectar that was Mrs RM’s Jaipur. “Mmmm” said Mrs RM. She’s a cicerone. Or something similar.
Really great grazing food too, at about half London prices.
“We’re sat here in the sun, glass of wine, no better place to be” someone said on the phone to their mate, who was probably in a Wilko in Worksop.
And it was lovely, though if I’m honest (as I must be) the Doom had drifted downwards a bit by the end and I was almost tempted to stay for another spin on the cask ale lottery.
Stick or twist ?