retiredmartin

March 2024. Sheffield.

We arrived back at Luton from Lisbon at 01:00 on Thursday morning, had six hours kip in the campervan (saving £120 v the Holiday Inn over the road), and popped to see Mum and Dad on the way back home.

Years ago you’d have been expected to bring them something back from a trip abroad, tinned sardines or something, but all I had was a packet of Botham’s tea biscuits from the Whitby trip. Mum was delighted.

Back “home” I needed to see Sheffield’s trad pubs, and I needed cask. So quite why I headed straight to Heist’s keg emporium is a mystery.

I like Heist; shuffleboard, craft can grab machine,

quirky toilets,

cutting-edge soundtrack.

There’s a big after-work crowd, the lovely barman putting the beer board on tells me it’s a private function but they’re just winding up and I can come in.

Yes, there really is an Untapper called “Badgewankers” drinking Dancing Around In Circles.

I arrived at 18:48 and by 19:08 I’m the only customer, and I’ve finished my pint of “I Said Milk The Cow, Not Melt!“, a lovely hazy IPA. I often wonder what Maradona thought of hazy IPAs.

Perversely, my status as the only customer determined that I’ll stay, rather than head out.

But I need food. Unfortunately I’ve arrived between food operations (burgers out, smoked meat in) , and there’s no crisps.

NO CRISPS !!! So it’s Bombay Mix, and a half of your strongest beer please.

Yes, it’s a 10% Norwegian import from Bådin, I tap it into Untappd and suddenly I am Badgew****r.

Sheffield isn’t just £3.30 pints, you know; you might recall the £21 stout (also marshmallow) in the Rutland recently. Both imported beers and absolutely stunning (decanted into a pint glass, obvs).

First person to say “But you don’t drink 11% beer in pints, you fool !” is a bore. And has never met Mrs RM.