There are two conductors on the tram. Saturday in Sheffield is busier than I expect until I remember it is the run up to Christmas. I disembark by the Occupy camp that used to be the cathedral and pause to get my bearings; I don't come into town often and the crowds are both exciting and offputting. I meet Ben on Fargate, noting that we have both opted to wear the accepted father-of-two uniform of blue jeans and a brown jacket, although thankfully not to the extent that Dan and I once managed. Laughter still echoes in the Welsh Valleys.
We walk. Ben comments on how lucky I am to live in Sheffield. I have to agree, but all I can think is "this didn't use to be here". My Sheffield is the pre-university Sheffield of the early nineties:Rock Night at the Roxy, The Drop at the city hall ballroom, various pubs now gone or changed in all but location. And there are now flats everywhere. People have always lived in the city centre, but now they do so visibly. In times past you could believe that after closing time the city was empty.
Coffee and a sarnie- sorry: Latte and a Panini in the winter gardens. A chat. I can't remember the last time Ben and I just sat and chatted. Properly putting the world to rights.
A stroll around the bookshops (neither of us buy as many as we would like to) is followed by a longer-than-intended stop at that rare creature: a proper pub. The Red Deer deserves a mention here as it was just as I remembered from years ago, and there aren't too many things in Sheffield I can say that about any more. The beer and the words flow easily, and we agree that no, this doesn't happen often enough. We know we get on well but it is nice to get the chance to prove it.
Hours later than planned (we really did just meet up for a coffee), and a good deal merrier, we emerge into the darkness and head back to the cathedral, making plans to do this again as soon as possible.
I leave Ben to chat to the Occupy campers and jump on a homeward-bound tram, a happier man than the one that left the house in the morning.
Good friendships need days like this.
I am assuming a 'sarnie' is a sort of sandwich?
ReplyDeleteOnce we become parents, we stop taking days like this for granted. It's good to really appreciate friendship, conversation and shared interests.
ReplyDeleteThe 'cup of coffee' (which lead to several pints) days are always the best, they're what the most precious memories are based on.
I'd not only stopped taking them for granted; I'd given up on even thinking about them. There are family days, and fishing days, and they fill the holes admirably, but a day just to sit and chat? A fine day.
ReplyDeleteAnd Suze; Yes, just slang for a sandwich. I could have said we'd gone to get some snap instead, but I've never been quite Yorkshire enough for that.