retiredmartin

March 2026. Sheffield.

It was two-thirty on our “cultural Sunday” and we still hadn’t taken our Chicago guests (a bit wary of an extended pub crawl, perhaps), in a pub ! Apart from the breakfast pint in Spoons.

Five and a half hours later we’d rather remedied that omission, and I think Meighan and Dave had worked out what the city is all apart.

But where to start ? Meighan made the decision by heading in the Brown Bear, just as I shouted “No pho...”.

I don’t think Meighan quite appreciated the severity of the offence she was about to commit,

but our American guests did appreciate the gorgeousness of this rather unsung Sam Smiths city centre gem. And the OBB was as good as I’ve had it here, a chewy 3.5.

For complete contrast, Mrs RM then insisted we pop in the Old Shoe for a bit of modernity.

So modern, that’s the first Haircut 100 album they’ve brought for Vinyl Afternoon. Proper hipster.

Modern beer range, Two by Two Porter for Dave, hazy Beak for me.

A toddler plays with toy animals, we pick up posh pizza from next door, it’s a naice place, though Meighan is surprised when I say this is the “classy” place in town. Perhaps the Fargate looks smarter, but Old Shoe is where you get the groups of ladies drink £9 glasses of wine and eat £5 French crisps.

It’s also a place where, freed from Sir Humphrey’s rules, we can finally answer a question about the origin of the fork.

Time to head into Kelham, but I find I can’t quite get past a bustling Shakespeare, and this turns out to be the star turn as the Shakey is hosting a tattoo festival.

It’s possible Mrs RM got that Tenpole Tudor design as a tattoo, but you’ll never find out.

We started with halves (boo !) of Attic Pale, and then shared a third of Amity’s Imperial Stout.

What a pub this is when it’s busy.

Our fourth pub was a little too busy.

I felt obliged to take Dave in Sheffield’s top pub, but sadly a lack of teamwork meant we missed the last two tables in the bar and were consigned to the conservatory, which despite the Hieronymus Bosch is very second best.

Unlike Blue Bee’s American Five Hop, which was perfect (NBSS 5).

“You’re drinking condition now” I say to Dave, who recognises a zealot and nods sagely.

And then home, though I take Dave via the view from the top of Blake Hill, which is as good as Sheffield gets.

Except that the Blind Monkey looks to good to miss,

and inside on Acoustic Night we get some top cask and a bloke with a Chris Stapleton T-shirt entertaining us royally for an hour.

Honestly, one of the best days we’ve had in Sheffield since that day the lawn mower broke.