I find that I, the southern country girl, have an attraction to the city of Sheffield, fostered no doubt by my first visit to it years ago, 1998, to see Richard when he was MD of ForgeMasters, and he showed me around the steel works. I have a memory of a museum of steel, and learning that it was nickle that made steel stainless, found by accident by a man observing a discarded piece of steel that had not rusted. I purchased a knife and fork, which I still have in my random collection. (I find the old log, read and post it here).
So I was glad for the opportunity to return to Sheffield, as part of the SFCP sponsored project with Think Together Sheffield: an evening of philosophy in the community. I drove up the night before to stay with Richard, who had remained in the same bungalow as I’d visited 2 years ago, and staying with him a delightful Ukrainian and her 4 year old button bright son. He loved the dogs, as did Richard. I tried to persuade Richard to take Brow, who bonded with Richard immediately. He got the dog dynamics, there is a natural connection between him and animals. I admire the spareness if his home, lack of clutter, white bright kitchen, white bare walls, all in place, nothing extraneous.
Richard now heads up NHS Derby and Derbyshire Integrated Care Board (ICB), a years position, followed by deputy chair when he leaves post this April. He enjoys the strategic planning, thinking, the short term project, partly I imagine as he is uncertain of his health future. His heart condition (exacerbated by Rubgy he said) seems relevant to this decision. He gets frustratingly tired, the blood not getting the oxygen it needs. He takes me out for a Chinese – a popular restaurant, with multiple tables seating groups of 10 plus. ‘You’d hardly believe there was a cost of living crisis here’, he said. But we are all white haired and retired, on our pensions, i observed. We talked family, his, (David and Ben with 2 grandkids, Emma Jane, Lucy ) then Kags. Like me he has had little contact with the other cousins, Edmund, Jo, Chris, Berenice, Dom, although knew of Doms recently born son. Facebook I presume.
I found a perfect place to walk the dog, Clumber Park, by following an extraordinary avenue of lime trees, in fact a double avenue of mature Limes, either side, going on for miles. Parking up I asked a women in a landrover, can I walk dogs off lead here? No problem she said, you can walk for miles, and she pointed in various directions. Carved out of the ancient forest of Sherwood, 3,000 acres, no central building, (Dukes of Newcastle owned it, house burned down and finally demolished 1938). It was naturally primarily enclosed as a a hunting deer park. The double avenue of lime trees, created for the 5th Duke, was planted with 1,296 trees and stood at three miles long. Today, it still is the longest in Europe.
We came down to and walked around the lake, which was larger and longer than expected, so it was in torch light that we finally crossed the bridge, returning through the village of Hardwick (a model village for the 5th Duke’s estate workers.) Edgy bit of uncertainty, as I finally found the van, alone and unlocked in the corner of a field. No mobile signal to call Richard and say we’d be late.
Snow arrived the next morning, we returned to Clumber Park for a dog stretch, before the strictures of the city. This time paying 5 quid entry – so worth it. Fell in love with the lava like feet of beach, and also inspired by the mix of yew and birch, which may work together as the central circle on my land plan.
Snow slowed traffic and it took hours to get into Sheffield centre, and Novotel, where we were booked in. As I arrived, so had news that the event had been cancelled. I had 20 minutes in Sheffield Millennium museum before they closed, a brief taste of their diversity and intrigue. Impressed with testaments to those often silent marginals who had died of Aids and suicide, bold and touching declarations in patchwork.
Ruskin’s collection, a store of everything that is ‘lovely’ in the life of nature and heroic in the life of men, is here in Sheffield as he was impressed with the skills of the metallurgists. I got a glance, and a taste to return.
In search of a Macbook battery, the helpful man at Asda recommended the green sward behind the raiilway station, and his assistant the cemetery. Glad I chose the railway, as getting 3 dogs across Sheffield, on snow slippy paths, on leads was not easy, and this was the closest. The hill was the cholera hill where thousands were buried after an epidemic in 18 something.
The Novotel accepted dogs, an unexpected luxury for them who I would have gladly left in the van, but for the possibility of freezing. in the bar I watched a guest (a circuit court judge, I imagined?) ease comfortably in to the surroundings, then an elegant woman arrived to greet him and off they went. I ate tough as boots chicken, sitting uncomfortably low. Walkiing round the block with the dogs for final walk, I saw the judge and his woman exit a funky Italian restaurant in a side street, saying, that was better than a hamburger in the Novotel, and they both laughed at their cunning. Retired to early bed, and a documentary on the 1984 miners strike on TV which as it happened culminated in Sheffield. I was alive and conscious at that time, and remember disliking Arthur Scargill, his battle cry, and call to arms. Gosh.
At 2am Kali begins to bark, wanting a pee. Dress, lead up, 3 dogs down in the lift from the 5th floor. Stand clear of the doors, it repeated, as Brow became scared and jumpy inside. Through hotel foyer, out into the Sheffield streets, with the last of the nights revelers returning, delighted to find the unusual site of 3 dogs, and they try to rope us into their night, instead we scuttle off trying to find a blade of grass.
The cemetery, the next morning is easy to find, riskily I park on double yellow, and dogs scamper out like greyhounds in the slips. It was the man I met at the entrance who framed the visit. With a dog on lead, he allows mine off lead to sniff and exchange, with a smile on his face. I’d walked passed him, before I turn and ask, is this the Cemetery – where are the headstones? They were all moved, he said, in the 1970’s, and he went on to describe some the history, and where I could see the best graves.
Dark Black stone, black naked tree trunks, sap green moss, dark green ivy, emerging snow drops. Names and dates, little paraphernalia, except lots of christian affirmation. Names: William, Henry, Thomas, Elizabeth (verypopular) Samual Bagshaw, Bingly, Talbot. All so English. His death deserves to be regretted. Found one story:
Samuel Holberry
Who at the early age of 27 died in York Castle after suffering an imprisoned for 2 years and a month for advocating what to him appeared to be in the true interests of the people of England
Of course, he was a Chartist and I’d seen the modern day monument to him the day before in central Sheffield. Another correcting of a past, a declaration of a life.
Kim told me her friend was a volunteer gardener at this cemetery, and I thought of this stranger, as I observed some areas untouched, left to nature. Bubbles of ivy clad tombstones.
Cresswell Crag
A stop off for a dog walk. Limestone erosion had formed natural caves which became natural shelters or animals and people. Today, with dedicated paths, it had a Victorian romantic atmosphere to it.
Ah the pleasures of being on the road, dallying and exploring. Long drive back.
Kalikellett 