March 2026. Sheffield.
Our friends from Chicago roused themselves at an uncivilised hour on the Monday and we ferried them back to Luton, a journey which might have shattered their illusions about pastoral England.
By Tuesday I needed to get out the house, anywhere, and jumped on the first bus from Langsett Road, heading out south-west to the posh suburbs leading to the Hope Valley.
There’s nothing there, once you go past Itchy Pig 2 and Banner Cross, anyway. The shop names are as plain as some of my recent blog titles.
The bus was running 5 minutes ahead of time as it reached Top Dog Photography towards the end of Ecclesall Road so it stopped dead for a break. I got off, despite protestation from the bus driver that he’d be off again shortly (see also : Fulham).
It’s not as exciting as Rotherham. Topiary,
identikit detached houses,
and one of those Miller & Carter steak houses that you suspect was once a Toby carvery,
but now charges £40 for a steak.
This bit of dull Sheffield is Parkhead, as different to its Glasgow namesake as imaginable.
But there’s good views back to the centre, and 5 minutes later you get an Ember Inn. Hurrah !
Not to be confused with the perennial award winning Abbeydale tap, this Rising Sun is the destination venue for genteel ladies who chick tea pots and discuss blue bin dramas.
And it’s OK. The young staff say “There ya go m’ love“, there’s a soundtrack of Ed Sheeran deep cuts, and the Black Sheep at £4.55 is improbably cheaper than Moonshine in that east Sheffield micropub.
It’s a cool, surprisingly bitter pint that, disappointingly, isn’t quite good enough to convince me the Rising Sun is getting in the GBG any time soon. Until the very last sip. Which is a 3.5.
I’d bought an advance rail ticket from Dore back to Sheff for £1.30, so had to dash through Eccleshall woods, which did a good impression of being menacing.
All sense of threat disappears when you see Ainsley Harriott on the road sign, mind.
retiredmartin 
“Our friends from Chicago roused themselves at an uncivilised hour on the Monday and we ferried them back to Luton,”
Oof. It would seem I missed a few interesting posts. 🙄
“By Tuesday I needed to get out the house, anywhere,”
You sound like my wife. I, on the other hand, am usually quite content to walk from the main house to my man/shed pub, and back again.
“The shop names are as plain as some of my recent blog titles.”
(slow golf clap)
Small ‘settlements’ are like that. When I lived in Masset, BC (on the Queen Charlottes, or Haida Gwaii as it’s now known), a village of less than 1,500 at the time, we had such stores as Bloom and Shoe (flowers and shoes) as well as the one that was the stationary store and insurance. But the best one was Before and After, which sold lingerie, and baby clothes. 😁
“as it reached Top Dog Photography”
So, portraits and puppies for sale?
” I got off, despite protestation from the bus driver that he’d be off again shortly”
Obviously he didn’t know you.
“but now charges £40 for a steak.”
(chokes on the sip of his beer)
“as different to its Glasgow namesake as imaginable.”
Including the steak prices!
“and 5 minutes later you get an Ember Inn. Hurrah !”
(looks down)
I’d take that over the puffed up TRADESMEN NAMED MONSTROSITY ABOVE any day.
“this Rising Sun is the destination venue for genteel ladies who chick tea pots and discuss blue bin dramas.”
I’m not conversant with either of those sayings, though I would hazard a guess that ‘blue bin drama’ refers to old ladies twitching the curtains to spy on the neighbourhood?
(and not a clue on chicking tea pots)
“there’s a soundtrack of Ed Sheeran deep cuts”
Wasn’t familiar with him till I saw “Yesterday”. Liked his music in that, and have probably heard him without knowing who it was.
“Until the very last sip. Which is a 3.5.”
The last sip is usually the best, because you’re going to order another; or the worst, because it’s the last for that visit.
“so had to dash through Eccleshall woods, which did a good impression of being menacing.”
(looks down)
That looks like Frodo and Sam running through the woods, where all of the birds in the trees have been sick, or have awful bowel problems.
“All sense of threat disappears when you see Ainsley Harriott on the road sign, mind.”
I’ll… just take your word for it.
Cheers
PS – As mentioned, in replying to your March 5th query, I’ll try to comment on one post per day. It’ll be yours, so break the bad news to anyone else (although for the others that’s subject to how I feel, or how many beers I’ve had) 😎
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