retiredmartin

May (at last !) 2025. Sheffield.

I read that the average Briton walks between 3,000 and 4,000 steps a day, a paltry amount. I did more than that aged nine walking to school along the A10.

15-20k is my target, and though things slipped a bit these last 3 years spending time with ill parents I can generally manage that quite easily on a day out.

Mrs RM joined me on an aimless walk from the front door on another Super Sunny Sheffield Saturday Thursday.

Ain’t nature great ?

Some proper art in unfashionable Upperthorpe, too.

But the problem with exercise in north Sheffield, apart from those hills, is that the walk always leads to the pub.

In this case, to the pub where I’d unwisely had a non-alcoholic beer the day before, a pub you tend to take for granted when its on your door step.

Once more, no lack of seats in the public,

but the garden is heaving. Wait till winter comes in July.

If the Fat Cat seems a little less adored than 20 years ago, it’s still an essential part of any Sheffield crawl, particularly now Neepsend are brewing a 5.2% house beer to, ahem, rival Pale Rider.

A pint for Mrs RM, a chewy Landlord (NBSS 3.5) for me, both providing that glorious head on the beer I always bore you with.

Perhaps it’s the pretzels.

The Fat Cat’s garden is a cultural melting pot, pints of Prosecco and Staropramen outselling the Pale.

Back at the bar, I see Chin Chin, a good name following my calorific splurge at Vocation,

Black Forest Gateau Stout ? Best share a pint, eh ?

A wise move, and not a beer for a session but just look at that scummy head.