Driving over Snake Pass to spend a week with my parents, sister and family, I wasn’t sure what to expect of a place I had only ever ventured to once: thirty years ago, in fact.
The journey there was pretty memorable: spending time on the A57 of ‘Van Der Graffe’ fame; seeing the Suedehead barbers in lovely Glossop and getting funny looks in the Yorkshire Bridge Hotel. But strangely, I didn’t remember much of our first foray into the Peak District and it’s a good job, as we were pleasantly surprised with a plethora of things from our time there together.
We stayed in a beautiful, picturesque cottage and enjoyed the peace and quiet as well as the beautiful surroundings.
We had a weekend of sunshine and outdoor swimming at the Hathersage Lido: all lovely stuff, especially a chilli & lime scotch egg from the Coleman Deli, pints at the Scotsman’s Pack. We even happened upon the grave of a Little John, Robin Hood’s bezzie, which was a little underwhelming but still a nice experience for anyone who grew up watching Kevin Costner as the Prince of Thieves.
The next day, two hours perusing Chatsworth were nowhere near enough, given the beautiful gardens, the incredible range of sculptures on show from Damien Hirst to displays of shells and crystals and the wonderfully ornate rooms on the tour and the particularly interesting work by the house’s inaugural artist in residence, Linder Sterling.
Obviously, I had a vested interest in her work due to her close association with a certain Steven Patrick, and was impressed with the collages on show but also the incense being burned at different points during the day, the sound pieces and the textiles designs. She’d obviously immersed herself in the whole experience of touring the house, and made links with its historical influences and importance very cleverly.
I was very impressed.
This of course may be of interest to you, so here’s a link:
https://www.chatsworth.org/events/artist-in-residence/
Whilst in this neck of the woods, I also overspent at the farm shop and the kids loved the farm itself – plus the adventure playground – and enjoyed a great takeaway from the Maazi before we all had a great day out at the Crich Tramway Village: a hark back to days at the seaside, with some beautiful signage, and evoked thoughts of times in our own city as well as locations around the world which use the tram system.
It was a really lovely family day out.
The day in between, though, brought with it the highlight of the trip: Sheffield.
A strange sentence, perhaps, for those who have never frequented the city, and even stranger for someone who never thought I would get there. I grew up watching ‘When Saturday Comes’; we love Henderson’s Relish; I had a soft spot for Wednesday because of Waddle and even collaborated on a play about the north (2013 production ‘Wondrous Place’ http://www.britishtheatreguide.info/reviews/a-wondrous-plac-unity-theatre-8838 in which the play-within-a-play ‘Porters Brook’ made me want to visit the city more than ever, if only because of the song:
Plus, my heart both snag and sank a couple of years ago when I read an article about the story of the Urban Splash neon signage on a housing estate on the outskirts –https://www.theguardian.com/global/2016/aug/21/tragic-story-of-sheffield-park-hill-bridge – and I supported the campaigns to keep the chimneys and the trees from extinction, despite them being two hours away.
Now, then… the steel city and me have an interesting history, mainly musically, because I feel like I know the place through the songs of Richard Hawley.
Many people of my generation would say the same of the Arctic Monkeys, and although I really like some of their newer stuff – and had a drink with them in the Brewery in a previous life when a friend worked on their second album cover – but I can’t really count myself a true fan. Similarly, ‘Different Class’ by Pulp was a seminal album from my teenage years and again, really respect Jarvis but don’t feel the same affinity I feel for Hawley.
I fell in love with his words and chords when he didn’t win the Mercury Prize, then fell in love with my wife as he played the soundtrack. Meeting him in a darkened doorway on Parr Street was still one of the more surreal moments of our relationship – having a reet good natter like old friends – and so it was no surprise when our secret dance lessons, learning a Viennese waltz, led to our first dance at the wedding of 2012.
Here’s the proof: our practice notes!
Countless concerts and seminal moments since, as I said I didn’t think we’d ever make it to Coles Corner or the other places namechecked on his albums.
We went to Coles Corner first, took the obligatory selfies and reminisced… saw the Crucible Theatre; the lovely indoor Winter gardens; the gallery and museum, including a great anti-war exhibition; the Hendo’s shop; car bonnets painted with iconic lyrics; examples of Lego Bricktropolis, and were made up to see Hawley’s visage on the wall of the Pizza Express (the only negative being they didn’t sell grappa!)
We made it to Lady’s Bridge, the oldest in the city, and saw a grittier, edgier part of the city ‘down by the river’ which I really liked. There were several beautiful, iconic buildings which have been run down or worse, and there was also a ‘beach’ in the square in front of the town hall. B loved running through the fountains, too, but not before we visited an amazing little pub in the student part of town that I’d read about and was not disappointed.
Ok, well I was a little disappointed with their music policy:
Though not with the pint of Cher Bert beer, nor the time spent in the beer garden painting B’s nails…
Nor the sticker on the drainpipe outside.
A quirky, genuine, playful yet sincere pub I’d recommend to anyone, especially after what happened immediately following our visit. I realised I’d left my beloved Primark sunglasses in the pub whilst chasing an escaping B, and with no time to spare before the tram back to the park & ride I wrote a brief email to the landlord asking for their safe return.
They have some sentimental value in that they’re very me, with some nice memories attached… sunglasses are currently a thing, too, so I said I’d pay the postage, but a few days later, there arrived an envelope with my pride and joy inside and they’d even gone to the effort of sending them first class which I really appreciated and made me love Sheffield even more.
As did something I’d picked up in the pub, a really interesting catalogue from www.theimagespeaks.co.uk which is a collection of projects by PhD students from the Faculty of Arts and Humanities at the University of Sheffield. I particularly liked the works by Katrina Mayson on Joseph Cornell, and the Franco-Algerian identities project by Martin Elms but was most taken by the comments I found at the back of the booklet.
Our day out, and this interesting body of collaborations, made me wonder how life might have been as a student in Sheffield. The architecture is amazing, a real mix, the students union used to be the centre for popular music… They even have poems on the side of buildings, for God’s sake!
But this all embodied my impression of the city: it comes through in Pulp, Monkeys, Hawley’s music; in the kindness and generosity of pub staff for a one off customer;h in the honesty of the art critic who left his comments for a stranger like me to find and love.
Love, love, love.
I’ve been listening to the Beatles a lot recently and I think Sheffield is a city of love: love is, after all, all you need.
Earlier in this article, I skirted over Coles Corner as it was a little anticlimactic – a few undesirables were sat on the benches opposite; it now houses a Pret, and there’s no romantic lighting, but just being there with our children all these after that dance and the countless rehearsals and re-enactments reminded me that the site was initially written about because it was where couples traditionally would meet before embarking on a night out together.
Our day in Sheffield had all the same ingredients of romance, grit, edginess, culture and smiles as a first date – with a very happy ending.
Talking of which, next time: extreme pain, joy and turning five!
