A WOMBWELL WOBBLE

August 2026. Wombwell. Greater Barnsley.

“You’re weird” says Mrs RM, which I’m taking as a compliment.

A week after that foreign holiday in Wales, I’d barely left Sheffield. At Dad’s care home this afternoon, the lovely staff note my absence from Waterbeach for a couple of weeks* and I feel guilty.

By Thursday, my brain was desperate for something new to digest, the way most folk are desperate for home and routine. Mrs RM sent me out to fetch chocolate from the Premier on the corner; instead I just kept walking to Sheffield Station.

Wombwell (pop. 15,136) isn’t grotty, and I could feel my brain coming back to life as I considered its merits.

The massive cemetery on Summer Lane is beautiful,

the terraced houses along the mile from station to town are solid and neatly kept,

and fans of old shop fontage are in for a treat.

Nu-Well mall is a design classic.

Solid church,

branches growing out of the Burton department store (see also : Attercliffe),

and a reasonably priced commercial hotel for those of you planning your 2027 holiday in Wombwell.

As an old mining town, you’ll not be surprised to see the grey “P”s marking closed pubs,

but Wombwell High Street is unexpectedly buzzing on an unnoteworthy Thursday night, folk spilling out of every pub onto the pavement, women screeching, scooters of all types,

and the Old Town Hall converted to a proper use. Great to see a town so busy.

I thought Wombwell had a micropub, but that’s Wath-upon-Dearne of William Hague fame, and the only cask among a dozen or more bars is, inevitable, the Spoons.

It must be well over a decade since my visit to the Horseshoe**, and it’s hard enough to tell Spoons apart, but this will last long in the memory for a young lad pracing around barechested while the entire JDW management team debated their next steps.

Luckily, a female aquaintaince lent him her jacket which almost complied with the rules on decorum. I hope she got it back.

*My back’s been wrecked by the last few years of driving and it’s all come home to roost lately. I need one of those beady things behind my back.

**Really good pint of Dartmoor Jail for £1.99, and not the first one pulled, either.

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Published by retiredmartin

Retired NHS, doing long walks around UK and the world to record the great bits. Focused on Good Beer Guide pubs and live music.

17 thoughts on “A WOMBWELL WOBBLE”

  1. If you’re feeling a bit low, visiting the depression towns and villages of the South Yorkshire coalfield is unlikely to lift the spirits.

    Did you remember the chocolate on your way home?

    Hope your back’s improved. Did you try those beads for your driving seat?

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  2. I remember that before the devastation of the ‘eighties “Main” meant a proper big colliery, Hilton Main being one several miles from where I grew up.

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      3. SH, Local coal, local bricks, all beer brewed within thirty miles ( Stone, Burton, Birmingham, Wolverhampton ). sadly, we’ll never see times like that again.

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      1. Mrs. E recommended two yoga positions, one minute each per day: The Cat, and Greet The Sun, the latter done first.

        Seemed to fix my back permanently. And I’m a sceptic by nature.

        Frequent long drives are good for no one’s however.

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