retiredmartin

July 2026. Sheffield.

It’s that time of year again, when local newspapers, even the subscription ones without clickbait, send reporters out to find your city’s top beer gardens, and invite comments from folk who like to reminisce about “The Good Old Days“.

I subscribe to Sheffield’s Tribune, which has good if often grim journalism, and their take on the top gardens is pretty good, but it’s this comment that stood out.

The Raven is 7 minutes walk from me (uphill, both ways), firmly in the Beer Guide, and unexpectedly for a tied brewery pub it’s one of Sheffield’s top craft keg outlets.

But that garden..

Promisingly, there’s Freak Street’s Himalayan pop-up in the garden through summer that might tempt us out, but in the hottest week since the Dinosaurs Mrs RM was staying close to the indoor fan.

The Loxley cask is consistent and well-priced (if lacking a flagship), but I’m taking no chances and swerve “Gunson** ” for “Neal Gets Things Done“, “Sabra Cadabra” and “Squidge“, which is a line you didn’t see often in beer blogs when CAMRA were formed.

Mrs RM’s 6.5% Verdant was spectacular*, so much so I knew she’d have a second pint and regret it shortly later, but someone’s got to save the lunchtime pint half of murk.

The soundtrack, hopefully chosen by our heroine barperson, veered from the Stereophonics to early Manics to, ahem, David Gray (again).

At the bar, she enthuses about Loxley, one of the few breweries to open pubs all day every day, and commends her regulars, drinking bottled beer from the fridge after their shifts and making that noon opening worthwhil. Great staff make a pub.

I’m almost reaching the stage where I’ll overlook the less-than-lived-in look I’ve whined about, as the staff and customers (and beer) are so good. Just less Stereophonics, please.

*”Should be for seven pound fifty grumble grumble“.

**I did have a pint of the cask, it was gorgeously bitter