July 2025. Stannington. Sheffield.
Bit of clickbait there. “Minnies” sounds like one of those West Welsh parlour pubs serving Felinfoel from a dragon’s horn, doesn’t it ?
Sadly, it’s just the locals name for the Rose & Crown, our second Stannington pub, a short walk in the heat past bees*,
and a terrific view out to the Bradfield moors.
I know Minnie’s will serve Bradfield’s ubiquitous Blonde, as virtually every cask outlet in Sheffield without “CAMRA pub” pretensions (and they are pretensions) stocks it.
It’s an unspectacular 3pm opener, but the benching is cosy and it’s a place Dads bring their daughters after school, which would be condemned as reckless parenting on Mumsnet.
The keg fonts, all your favourites, spans the bar,
and a lone hand pump to the side serves the Blonde in a spotless glass.
It could be another 3.5, but it’s first out the pumps, so it’s not quite.
But a 3 is fine, and there’s “Teenage Kicks” and half a dozen Old Boys coming in to celebrate their sporting victory (“Won ten nowt“). Bowling, I guess. Or bee spotting. Who knows ?
I pretend to read The Star, astonished by the Best Read news items.
Yes, your Twitter bubble obsesses over Palestine and Pubzilla and the Prem, while Sheffield’s reads about Conor McGregor nudes.
When I leave at 3:17, there’s already a dozen in. Stannington looks in rude health.
*whatever
retiredmartin 