March 2025. Sheffield. The problem with Sheffield is knowing when to say “that’s enough”, whether it’s Luddite cider or crispy beef. There was never any chance I wasn’t walking from New Barrack to Sang Lung, barely pausing to admire the lamppost art. “Twenty minutes ?” says the new lass in Sang Lung. “That’ll be perfect”… Continue reading NOTES ON QUALITY IN SHEFFIELD. AND CRISPY BEEF
Tag: Sang Lung
A POST-GARDENING TIPPLE
“I’m so pleased you’ve been helping with the gardening” said Mrs RM, mistaking weary compliance for enthusiasm. I retired so I could walk aimlessly and mysteriously end up at the pub, NOT spend 2 days sawing up and putting wood into a skip. Actually, TWO skips were filled, though I’ve rescued the match ball from… Continue reading A POST-GARDENING TIPPLE
WHEN EVEN THE TRIP TO THE DENTIST IS A TREAT
I’m determined to keep this blog a positive, politic-free safe space for the Pollyannas amongst us. But I fear that Monday may test my patience; Aaaagh.., as they say in Sheffield, which has its own take on The Scream. Anyway, I’ll leave the Covid commentary to Mudgie, the Tand and Kentish Paul, and tell you… Continue reading WHEN EVEN THE TRIP TO THE DENTIST IS A TREAT
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