retiredmartin

August 2024. Sheffield.

Fresh from nasal reconstructive surgery (something about having to breathe in Mancinuan air, I guess) Matthew arrived in Sheffield on Sunday lunchtime with Emma. “We’ve brought our overnight bags“. Matt’s is the size of the average Mumsnetter handbag. I love the fact our lad just turns up and stays the night; there would be uproar on Mumsnet if a son didn’t give a month’s notice.

Matt is a month too late for the Mountains of Metal all-dayer,

so instead we explored the area south of centre,

home to the Blades and 200 different cuisines and the Red Brick market,

a giant warehouse packed with antiques, jewellery, posters and retro football shirts.

Yes, Sheffield has its own version of Manchester’s Affleck’s Palace, except the tat seems cheaper and Kinfolk Coffee next door is smarter than anything on Oldham Street.

It’s too hot to walk, so I make Mrs RM walk the mile west of Bramall Lane to posh Sharrow Vale, pausing to ask Matt who this is;

Sheffield tends to follow Manchester a bit when it comes to indoor markets, food courts and the other inessentials of life, but the street art is superior,

and the beer is a quid or more a pint cheaper. We stop in the original Beer House on Ecclesall Road, the one where Mrs RM kicked some blokes off a table in 2022 so her and Jane could sit down. Matt books an Uber, because Mrs RM won’t walk up the hill home, and Matt knows how to be A Good Son.

You’ll be bored of me telling you this, but beer quality in Sheffield is sensational. And the Two by Two Pale is edging close to a 4.5 as everyone goes for it this Sunday afternoon.

That is, everyone except Matt, with his Super Bock.

CAMRA, the battle for young members is lost.