retiredmartin

May 2025. Sheffield.

And so we leave Georgia, the capital’s airport so comfortable we arrived there over 3 hours early and still nearly missed Last Call. Great name for a bar;

but with Staropramen at a tenner I gave it a miss.

Back home in Sheffield I lasted almost a day before sneaking out up the hill.

I know I write about the Blind Monkey and the Sun a fair bit, but it’s worth observing your local(s) over the seasons.

Wednesday is Wings night. I did ask Mrs RM to join me but she’s worked out the calories and they’re not good.

Thinking about it, I’d rarely been to the Monkey alone, and it’s an odd feeling. Should I ask MumsNet if I can go to the pub on my own ?

Luckily, Chelsea are on the telly (again) so I can be inconspicuous in the corner and pretend to like footy on TV.

Roosters “Easy Going Assassin“, a lighter version of their Baby Faced big brother, is par for the course here, above NBSS 3 but not by much*.

In contrast to its GBG neighbour Raven up the hill, this is a small brewery place where the beer isn’t the strongest thing. The Blind Monkey looks gorgeous, feels cheery, never has the same customers in twice, and has a top draw soundtrack (it was all Stevie Wonder and Hooked on Tchaikovsky in Georgia).

The lovely barman sees me pretending to watch a muted Chelsea v Betis and asks if I want the commentary on. “No, no, that’s fine” I say, but on it comes. Who’d turn off the Prefabs ?

The buzzer vibrated, I collect my 10 fiery wings and a mountain of (terrific) tater tots for £12, and go back to the bar.

“Same again* ?”.

Blimey, long time since I was asked that. Am I becoming “That guy who has the same beer twice” ?

_{*Yes, it was better than the first. That’s how beer works.}