retiredmartin

February 2024. Sheffield.

Back home on Saturday Mrs RM wanted nothing more than a pizza in the Blind Monkey. 100 steps from door to door wasn’t burning off many calories, but hey ho.

The pizza bases had run out, but we managed to find something equally unhealthy so that’s OK.

You get a half pint of Doom Bar for identifying the dish Mrs RM had (above), my choice is more obvious.

We’d invited Martin the Maltmeister to stay with us following his team’s gallant loss at Hillsborough that afternoon, though I had my doubts he’d be able to stay in one place for more than a couple of minutes with brewery taps to tick in Rotherham.

But he did sit still, longer than me, and enjoyed a great evening with us chatting to the other customers. The really striking thing about the Blind Monkey is the range of custom, and you never see the same person twice.

Malt hit the Don Valley Blonde hard, and I only called time when he bought me a second Orval in quick succession, leaving him in the safe company of Mrs RM while I went back to make him a tea of sausage and mash.

Which he never touched when he came back 2 hours later at kicking out company.

As with all pub tickers, Malt was really great company and kept the puns down to an absolute minimum.