retiredmartin

August 2023. Waverley, Rotherham.

One last little slice of Sheffield before we head into deepest Dorset for a slice of musical bliss under the sun to see in September.

Actually, the new development of Waverley, just off J33 of the M1, is technically Rotherham, though I suspect the residents of these “exciting” Sky Houses next to the Advanced Manufacturing Park will definitely tell their mates they live in Sheffield now that we have a cocktail bar and Park Hill and it’s cool.

We spent an hour walking Waverley, built on the edge of the Orgreave mines. T-shirts commemorating Orgreave are still regularly seen in pubs and at music festivals, perhaps more common than Coldplay Tees.

Waverley itself is spectacularly quiet, and with only irregular buses into Sheffield (or Rotherham, if you need a Chantry pub) seems as cut off as Cambridge housing developments in Cambourne.

Big cars in every drive, not a soul on the street. They were all in the pub.

“Come on, let’s go in, you know you want to” urged Mrs RM.

“I’ve already been in” I said, walking on.

And you thought it was me who couldn’t walk past an open pub.

It was carvery night. I think that sign says “Carvery”.

Actually, every night is carvery night.

A big welcome for dogs,

and soft toy collectors,

and games players. There was something called “Irish bingo” involving playing cards, with huge prizes of sweets on offer.

What did it offer to drinkers ?

Well, the Guinness was off (presumably on Irish Bingo night they’d drunk it all) so Mrs RM had a pint of Pedi.

You may remember (you won’t) this was the Pedigree I raved about when visiting with Will 2 years sgo.

It was, first out of the barrel, NBSS 4 then and certainly a 3.5 now, so I shall resume my campaign to get in in the GBG for 2025. Perhaps with a campaigning T-shirt with words that no-one can read across the room.