October 2025. Sheffield.
I’m still working out how many pubs I’d need to visit to complete the new Good Beer Guide; Simon had worked out his “churn” a month ago.
But it hardly matters. There’s no way I’m repeating the heroics of 2022, and will forever be the Ben Curtis of GBG ticking.
A combination of family dramas, switch of focus to country-ticking, “pint only” policy and acceptance of any and every invite for a pub crawl curated exploration of licensed premises will keep me well below the dozen GBG pubs a week needed for Guide completion.
And when top Pub Men like Quosh tell you he’s bringing Brother Joe for a session in Hillsborough I put my plans to visit micropubs in Northumberland on hold and join him in the S6 Beer House, my regular “quick pint while I wait for the crispy beef and Singapore rice” stop,
Now, I have to admit that I was rather gearing up for a tour of Hillsborough’s unsung keg emporia like the Masons, Riverside and mysterious “Shakey”, but it seems I’ve been sold a pup and they’re on the craft murk in the good pubs instead.
These posts on pub crawls are completely pointless on blogs, as I take ZERO notes, which is as good an indication as any that Quosh and Joe (debuting on this blog and no photo) were fantastic company and when you qualify for a senior railcard keeping in touch with your mates is the most important thing. Mrs RM even tries to keep in touch with me, sometimes, in-between working on her blog.
But I do know the Beer House was playing ’86 vintage New Order that afternoon, that a group of young women were drinking pints, and the Two by Two Citra was an immaculate NBSS 4. “Immaculate” is the new “Almost Perfect”.
It’s a bit “shop conversion”, despite comfy seating and pool table, but more spacious than Pangolin just up Middlewood Road, which is off-licence with drinking benches.
If Pangolin was in Sutton, or Stirling, or Swansea, it would be a Beer Guide perennial. In Sheffield, despite good and interesting (ugh) beer it gets no GBG love, and this is my first visit in 4 years.
Perhaps selling cans with “Tarquin” on the side hints too much at the gentrification of S6 (hey, why’d ya think we moved up), but the guvnor was cheery and chatty and they’ve got a David “Rotherham” Seaman doll hiding in the pot plants so I think we can let that one go.
Having established we wouldn’t be drinking John Smiths Smooth by the banks of the Don today, out thoughts turned to craft breweries on industrial estates.
In the words of John Grant, I wanna go to Mars.
St Mars of the Desert is an occasional treat for me, but one all Sheffield tourists want to do, a bit like a visit to the colleges in Cambridge or battered haggis in Paisley or whatever.
The big news is that table service (ugh) has been replaced by order at the bar, as the Lord intended, and they’d also ordered some blue skies so we could drink their Abbey Brune in the garden.
Reader, one of those Abbey Brunes is plenty.
Less carbonated than SMOD beers can sometimes feel, it was a magical hour, and for once the toilets weren’t the highlight.
Back on the tram to town, off at Cathedral, and to another of Sheffield’s newer craft draws.
I think The Fargate will replace the Old Shoe in Mrs RM’s affections (though she’s actually given up beer again), it’s more comfy and less industrial, but as we sat comparing alternate versions of Two Flints x Verdant (hazy v West Coast), listening to Stephen Stills on vinyl, it all made perfect sense.
Quosh got his lovely Insta photo of dusk in Sheffield published on Tribune, though this shot was better,
a perfect day.
retiredmartin 
“battered haggis in Paisley”.
Not a particularly nice new nickname for Duncan there.
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As an elder statesman/one hit wonder of the pub ticking world, I wonder whether there’s a position for a top level pundit. Reviewing the week’s posts from Si, discussing pubs in, pubs out of the guide, injury worries after particularly heavy pub crawls, ongoing concerns about the health of current ticking league structure. That kinda thing. On telly. Video footage and guest slots. Think about it…
(The Real) Mark
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VAR reviews of tickers who claim a tick but poured their half on a Market Harborough pot plant ?
Long-range forecasts of micropub winter hours (October to April) ?
Yes, I can see it now.
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You’ll need a thick sheepskin coat and one of those microphones you can put right up to your mouth and talk bollocks into. Still up for it?
(The Real) Mark
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Oh yes. Etu can advise me.
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You just have to shout the last word of every SENTENCE.
That – apparently – makes the listeners think that something exiting or surprising has just happened, Martin.
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But it HAS !
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Stephen Stills – Manassas, playing gently in the background. What more could you want, apart from good beer and equally good company?
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Amazing how good that album is compared to the rest of his output. It towers above the rest of his albums.
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Uncanny, watched a movie about SMOD yesterday.
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Is that a zombie film ?
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“and acceptance of any and every invite for a pub crawl curated exploration of licensed premises”
(slow golf clap)
“but it seems I’ve been sold a pup and they’re on the craft murk in the good pubs instead.”
It would appear craft is king these days.
“as I take ZERO notes, which is as good an indication as any that Quosh and Joe (debuting on this blog and no photo) were fantastic company and when you qualify for a senior railcard keeping in touch with your mates is the most important thing”
That is somewhat deep, but totally true.
“But I do know the Beer House was playing ’86 vintage New Order that afternoon, that a group of young women were drinking pints, and the Two by Two Citra was an immaculate NBSS 4.”
And all that without any notes!
“and this is my first visit in 4 years.”
(looks at pic below)
So, which came first; the name Pangolin or was it derived from said creatures (either real or like those in the pic below)?
“Perhaps selling cans with “Tarquin” on the side ”
The last tyrant king of Rome. Good to see his name lives on, if not his deeds.
“In the words of John Grant, I wanna go to Mars.”
And, if you’re lucky, you can see the milky way from there!
https://photos.app.goo.gl/ve85NK4aTG4UDTdX8
“or battered haggis in Paisley or whatever.”
I can well understand someone seeing a haggis dressed in Paisley, wanting to have a go at it.
“and they’d also ordered some blue skies so we could drink their Abbey Brune in the garden.”
Pfft. That’s just to lull you into a false sense of security. The God of Mars is sending a true SMOD* in about a week.
* – Sweet Meteor of Death
“Reader, one of those Abbey Brunes is plenty.”
I’m guessing 8 or 9%.
“I think The Fargate will replace the Old Shoe is Mrs RM’s affections”
Not 100% on this one, but I think ‘is’ should be ‘as’.
“listening to Stephen Stills on vinyl, it all made perfect sense.”
I wish most bars/pubs whatever would match the music to the mood (i.e. good chat atmosphere).
“a perfect day.”
You don’t need notes to know that. 😎
Cheers
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“Only” 7%, that Brune, but they add up !
In the UK a Tarquin is associated with middle-class Arsenal fans gentrifying an area.
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7% does indeed add up!
As for Tarquin, darn slang. I swear, when I backpacked around western Europe for 11 months I had the hardest time being understood at times right in the UK. 😇
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