retiredmartin

November 2023. Sheffield.

More from our night out in Sheffield, with a comfy bed in a windowless Easyjet greeting the end of our mini-crawl.

With no room at the (Rutland) inn, the pressure was on me to come up with tea NOW !

Or four minutes walk through the industrial streets below the Moor, to the Triple Point Tap, anyway.

Yes, it’s one of those shed conversions (carpet showroom, apparently) that the CAMRA Heritage lot love so much. We’d visited the once, with Karen and Jane of Blackpool fame, two years before.

And now it had made the GBG, with BRAPA here last month to do it justice. Simon liked it despite you thinking he wouldn’t, and wrote one of the most perceptive things I’ve ever read;

“More evidence that the kids are alright, or at least the current twentysomething’s of the world, far more switched on, engaging and warm than both my generation who grew up in the 80’s/90’s, and those ten years older, something I notice everywhere I go.”

The young folk on both sides of the bar are cheery and chatty, and the only criticism I can have is the number of “Reserved for Philippa at 7pm” signs in the booths, but I guess we can blame their parents for this weird inclination to book in advance.

Actually, I decide, the Triple Point bar + burger is what a Brew Dog could be like if they were any good (BDs are virtually empty everywhere I go), and provided the sort of haute cuisine Mrs RM and I were suddenly after;

It’s one of those bars where the cask seems to come from taps on the back wall to confuse the purists,

but in truth I ordered the cask Porter by accident and did my usual ploy of ordering the strongest keg for Mrs RM.

OK, given a choice you’d always pick the Rutland over Triple Point for the pubby actions, but the Porter was a rich, chewy joy. A second 4.5 in 20 minutes. “Here I stand sit, I can do no other” as another famous Martin would have said while honestly stating his beer scores.

Tummies full of burger and bubbly (or not) beer, we headed back out into the Sheffield night.