retiredmartin

September 2026. Sheffield to Northampton.

Yes ! I’m alive, just back from four (4) days without internet (unless you stand in a field of sheep in Cranborne Chase).

Lots of exciting music reviews from End of the Road ’26 to come, but first, and most excitingly, a night in the western suburbs of Northampton. Calm yourselves !

My newly purchased £15 Argos back rest support (pics available to Patronised readers only) worked wonders while driving, though is impractical for use while standing in a field for 10 hours.

I broke the 233 mile journey to Dorset with a night next to Sixfields*, where a certain famed blogger once scored a vital play-off goal for the Cobblers, and this correspondent walked up a muddy bank with a 45 degree angle after a 1-0 win v Bury to avoid queueing to get out. Think that ruined my calf muscles.

Travelodge charged me an extra quid (£37) to share a room with three beds with my elder son;

three beds, two towels, one bucolic view out to Popeyes.

Arriving at 8pm, I think Matt and Emma had envisioned a night out in Northampton, perhaps a wistful visit to the Rifle Drum ? But by law new football grounds must be built 1.7 miles out of town in an area without a decent pub, though that Popeyes was calling us.

Our Travelodge has a map of local attractions,

most of which appear to be other Travelodges, and we unanimously voted to walk the mile to Duston,

which to my knowledge has never been blogged about before.

A village once housing quarries and a large psychiatric hospital, it’s now a commuter suburb whose most photogenic feature is a heritage playground.

You’re not far from Prince Diana’s memorial at Althorp, and western Northants can be as beguiling as the Cotswolds around here, though Duston (pop, 15,565) is rather workaday.

And you’ll know how much I love workday. Two pubs, a curry house, and a chippy.

We’ll start with the Squirrels,

where they’re serving cheap food (2 for £15) till 9pm. Except it’s 10 minutes past 8 and the chef has already closed for the night.

Odd, as it seems exactly like the sort of Greene King diner you’d expect to be doing good food trade.

So we stay for a pint of foamy GK IPA (GOOD, enough),

and I’m dispatched across the road to that chippy the barmaid assures us is “really good”.

But is it ?

*One of my favourite COVID lockdown posts, this one