A year ago today Mrs RM and I said goodbye to Waterbeach and headed for the North.

The stressful move followed a month of trauma made worse by the sudden closure of pubs.

We arrived in Sheffield to find ourselves in Tier 3, not even able to search out whippet bhajis as “substantial meals” to legalise our pints.

So in our first four months weren’t able to enjoy the great pubs we’d found ourselves living among, and it was six months before we could actually go inside places like the wonderful Chantry, the find of the year.

And in recent months I’ve been able to find some of the best Bass in the country in Derby, Macclesfield and Burton;

But the best thing about the move, apart from giving Mrs RM a permanent project, is the hills.

Not just the Peak District, mind; even the strolls along the canal are hillier than in the Fens.

We still haven’t settled on a favoured curry house, but no doubt we’ll find that Hendos is on the table to go with the dhansak there too.

Friendly neighbours, cheap beer, live music, street art, snow. Sheffield has it all.

Well, perhaps our snow is a bit pathetic compared to the Yanks.

And, no, I still haven’t been to the Three Tuns (top) that I’ve walked past a hundred times on the way to the station. Perhaps today.

13 thoughts on “A YEAR IN THE NORTH

  1. It’s been such a bizarre couple of years, I’d completely forgotten about all that Tier 1/2/3 and “substantial meal” nonsense.


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