retiredmartin

March 2024. Sheffield.

A second pub on Sheffield’s Folk Weekend,

though sadly/happily not in The Perch, which was completely packed for the Youth Sessions. And they say young people spend all their time playing Minecraft.

The city was packed with folk carrying guitars and pushing suitcases, and I immediately knew I’d have a job getting in Shakespeares, but let’s try;

Entering the Shakey you’re immediately reminded how easy it is to take Sheffield for granted.

A wonderful looking pub, full of nooks and crannies upstairs and downstairs and outside,

with a beer range as good as any in the city.

Occasionally I come her and get distracted by the 10% Imperial Quadrupel IPA Stout; today I settled for the house Best Bitter. You can’t get Feckless (as it were) anywhere else for £3.70, I’ll wager.

I couldn’t get a seat though, the music room full of blokes with concertinas and fiddles.

This was my best bet, but that meant no music and no view of the bar.

A nice chap reading a book let me perch on the end of his table next to the music room, where I sat for all of 7 minutes before getting bored. How do people stand through 3 hours of Springsteen ?

That pint was far better than it looks, a chewy 3.5, but you knew that.

In the left-hand bar a rare spare table, and a chance to admire Dad entertaining his Fulham supporting lads by standing on a table to examine some of Shakespeares collection of breweriana.

No, not Bass mirrors, or Heineken ads,

or even the Barclay Perkins (that name rings a bell) poster,

but a pump clip for “Dixon’s Diabolical Ale“. The Dad and Lads surname was Dixon, apparently, prompting much amusement.

“Wainfleet !” said Dad. “Ah ! That’ll be Bateman’s* then” I offered, to complete disinterest.

*Actually, perhaps not.