retiredmartin

20th December 2022.

I really struggle on the rare days I’m forced by circumstance to stay in Sheffield, but at least there’s still many corners (and pubs) of this great city to explore on foot.

The walk up behind Sheffield Station to the Park Hill flats (immortalised by Richard Hawley and the subject of a musical) is almost as stretching as the hill to the Blind Monkey,

and keep walking through to Norfolk Park for some gorgeous “mid to late C19 Gothic style cast-iron lamp standard”,

the longest double planted avenue of Turkey Oaks in Europe.

Whoopy do, as they say here.

Next to no Guide pubs out west, in fact not much at all, so having done my 10,000 steps I took t’ tram all the way to Hillsborough’s venerable Spoons, where I somehow resisted the Belgian Blue in favour of the almost healthy Punk AF.

Sadly the afternoon special mini-fish and chips (top) was not as calorie-free, but it was tasty and filling, which is more than I’ve been able to say about Wetherspoons grub for a couple of years or more.

Yes, just over a fiver for fish, chips, mushy peas and a beer in a pleasant setting. Well, sort of beer. And, well, a pleasant enough setting once the hardworking staff had cleared the tables opposite.

Because the Rawson Spring was completely packed with gentlefolk, out for Christmas lunches and general merriment, and I couldn’t be happier to see them out and about again.