a week in Sheffield

I trained as a nurse in Sheffield from 1957-1961. The place has changed a bit since then. For one thing, the smell of coal gas has gone; it used to hit me as I walked down the ramp from Victoria Station to the bus stop. There are no coal mines any more and the station has disappeared too. The one remaining (Midland station) has been tarted up with a steel sculptured curving wall and a wide open space in front of it, impressive.

 Of course the engine of the city, the steel industry, disappeared a long time ago, sucking the life out
of the place for a while. In its place are monuments to its memory and museums.

'Sheffy Stan' pouring molten metal out of his crucible

Speaking of crucibles, The Crucible is a very famous place among billiard players in the world. In fact the World Snooker Championship is taking place there as I write this. It is making local cafe owners  nervous, as I found when trying to pay for lunch for me and my friends at the Crucible Cafe last week. They didn't want to take my 50.00 pound note, and pointed to the notice behind the counter stating they did not accept such notes. 'Why not?' I asked. Apparently the 50.00 pound note is the easiest to replicate and around World Snooker championship time the cheats and touts gather for rich pickings from the innocent punters passing counterfeit notes. I managed to convince them I had the genuine article before repairing to the Lyceum Theatre nearby to watch the play 'Carrie's War.'

The Lyceum has been there a long time. Nursing students used to get free tickets to pop stars' concerts, usually on a quiet night and usually near the front. We saw the likes of Tommy Steel, Adam Faith etc, the early stars of British rock'n'roll. I fancy I saw my first ballet at the Lyceum too. I couldn't get over the sound of the dancers' feet shuffling over the stage, something you didn't hear on TV or in the movies.

The theatre was full of schoolchildren, I suppose because the play was about the experiences of  two children when evacuated during WW11. They screamed and guffawed at the stage kiss, but generally were well behaved. We weren't sure however that they understood the premise of the play.

The stores have changed. C & A where I bought my first short skirt (a straight feltish green job) has disappeared. I didn't know it at the time but I had the reputation of being the first person at the hospital to wear a short skirt, albeit a rather modest precursor to the minis that followed.

The buildings are cleaner; there are more pedestrian precincts in the city centre with gardens, fountains and sculptures; smelly breweries have been replaced by high-ceilinged, well lit flats like my friends'.
BUT the sooner they get rid of that bloody great Big Wheel the better! What is it about English towns and big wheels? Even Windsor has one. It is becoming fetishistic!

I fancy I see the same faces and physiques of long ago, however, tarty bleach blond women and be-ringed skinny men hanging about the city centre.
One thing that hasn't changed in Sheffield are the beautiful surroundings. People used to describe Sheffield as 'an ugly picture in a beautiful frame.' In a matter of minutes you are out of the grime and into the Derbyshire Dales, with its soft green rolling hills, low stone walls and picturesque villages.

We visited Chatsworth House, the seat of the Duchess of Devonshire (aka Jessica the youngest of the famous Mitford sisters). It was too late to inspect its interior so contented ourselves with walking the beautifully landscaped exterior, sampling the wares of the cafe (of course) and the gift shop.

A wedding was taking place outside, atop a stone structured platform (a bit like a small pyramid without the pointy bit at the top). It is a beautiful venue for it, and we saw a young couple with mum and dad in tow being wooed for a possible future wedding.  In such ways the titled owners manage to keep their palaces and stately homes afloat.

 A few of my nursing friends and I lunched together at one of the many pubs in Derbyshire.  Ours was
The Hearty Oaks. The food was as the name suggests, hearty, especially the huge beef and Guinnesss pie I tucked into. We were served by a very solicitous young waiter, James who could not do enough for us,  except cook another batch of lasagne which had run out. He was so charming we didn't mind. Of course Lasagne was unheard of in the pubs of 50 years ago, not to mention fried camembert, chili prawns etc. so things are looking up.

We haven't changed a bit of course!