After yesterday’s post about the sad story of The Marples, here’s another Sheffield pub with a point of interest.
The name probably gives away the fact that there is a connection with the mail service, but the interesting fact is (and I’ve not verified this) is that it is the only pub in the country that is built into a Royal Mail building, in this case the Sheffield City Delivery Office. I once went into the delivery office as a child (my nan was a postwoman) and was fascinated by the sight of hundreds of bags of mail moving around the plave on a suspended rail system. How much fun it would have been to ride around the place in a mail bag, I thought.
The building in today’s photograph houses a pawn broker and a self-storage facility, but it was once a pub called The London Mart, although known as Marples by regulars (after it’s owner, John Marples). It is possibly the most famous bar in the city due to the tragedy which befell it during the Second World War.
On the night of Thursday December 12, 1940, the pub received a direct hit from a high-explosive bomb dropped by the German Luftwaffe. The building was destroyed, collapsing into a pile of rubble, killing 70 people from the estimated 77 who were inside at the time. It was initially thought that no-one could have survived the attack, but when rescue activities began the next day seven people were pulled from the wreckage of the building, including two who walked away unaided, never to be heard from again!
Following the destruction, the site lay derelict for 19 years until, in 1959, a new pub was built on the site, this time officially named The Marples. The pub remained open for the next 44 years until it closed for good in 2003, the building taking on a number of different uses in the following two decades. While the space previously occupied by the pub is now the Cash Shop pawn brokers, the upper floors have revived The Marple’s naming and are to become a housing co-operative.
This is a somewhat unassuming picture of the building that currently houses Heron Foods, a frozen foods store, on Haymarket in Sheffield. The structure managed to survive the ravages of The Blitz that destroyed much of Sheffield’s old city centre architecture during World War Two.
What I find more interesting is the faded sign that can be seen in the middle first floor window. This advertises The House of Curls, a hairdressing salon that was in business during the 1970s and 1980s, but which has been closed now for the best part of forty years I believe. Apparently, the salon housed a number of booths on the upper floors which were rented out by the operator to individual hairdressers.
It pleases me that the signage remains after this time. There’s something strangely comforting about ghost signs such as this. Things change, but the memories remain.
Do you know that old Randy Crawford song, Street Life? Yes? Well, no matter how many times I hear it, I always sing it as “Street Light“. A bit like Neil Diamond singing about “The Reverend Bluejeans“.
Street light, you can run away from time Street light, for a nickel, for a dime Street light, but you better not get old Street light, Or you’re gonna feel the cold
While walking around town during my lunchbreak one day, I noticed a considerable traffic-jam had formed. Climbing one of the pedestrian bridges that span the network of roads affected, I discovered some sort of incident had occurred. Multiple police vehicles were present as well as an ambulance and a paramedic car.
While I could see a couple of civilian vehicles where the ambulance was, there was no obvious sign of any serious collision and no debris was visible on the road, so I have no idea what had happened to merit the presence of so many emergency service personnel, or the significant hold up of other traffic.
This is the fourth of these posts where I document a hike along the the photos I took along the way. This also marks the first walk that went quite awry…
The walk I chose on this day was centred on the village of Carlton in Lindrick in Nottinghamshire, about fifteen miles or so to the east of where I live. The route is just over seven miles in length with a slight elevation of 214 feet. It forms a rough elongated figure-of-eight laid on its side, with a country estate at the eastern (Hodsock Priory) and western (Wallingwells Hall) sides of the route.
After parking in the village, I looked at my map and set off along the westward loop. This was a mistake – had I looked at the map properly I would have seen that I should have headed east first. Not that this matters in the grand scheme of things – I would still see the entire route and end up back where I started, no matter which way I set off. This didn’t happen though, for reasons I’ll get into later…
I began my walk along the main road through the village, passing the methodist church and Sherwood Ranger pub.
A little further down the road I took a left turn where the footpath headed behind a row of houses/
The weather in preceding days had been rainy and it didn’t take long before the dirt path became slick and muddy, necessitating an awkward walking stance where I tried to keep my feet on the grass at either side of the path. Despite this, my boots soon had an extra layer of mud clagging up the soles. A few portions of the path had paving laid, but these sections were few and far between.
The path eventually led into an area of woodland that bounded the housing. The shelter of the trees hadn’t kept the path dry however, and the muddy and occasional slippery progress continued. The resolution of my map and lack of obvious signposts also led me astray, sending me further into the woods before backtracking to the path I should have followed beside a field with horses. I would soon be cursing the existence of such creatures.
The path beside their field was overgrown with shubs heavy with moisture that I had to push past. I also discovered that my new, lightweight hiking trousers, were definitely not nettle-proof when I was stung several times through the material! After passing a house and some farm buildings, eventually the path met a narrow lane, terminating in a stile, and the picture below shows the way I had come
Crossing the lane, I rejoined the footpath. Despite nothing saying so in the weather forecast that I’d checked before leaving the house, it now began to rain. The lightweight mid-layer jacket I was wearing was water-resistant, but not water-proof, so I stood beneath a tree for a while hoping to avoid getting soaked. The tree just concentrated the rain into larger, heavier droplets though, and I had to resort to putting on the waterproof shell jacket that I’d fortuitously stored in my backpack. The picture below doesn’t really do justice to the rain that was falling, but you can see how waterlogged the fields were.
I pressed on and the path soon widened. At first this looked like a welcome change as there would be more space to avoid the muddy parts. Unfortunately, what this actually signified was that I was now on a bridlepath. One that had been traversed by multiple horses and was resultingly far more muddy. Showing thoughtfulness, some of the riders had chosen to ride their steeds on the grassy edged of the path, making those parts similarly difficult to traverse for pedestrians. In places there was no option except to hop and leap between the less sludgy areas, often sinking six inches into the waterlogged earth. If you ride horses in this area and felt your ears burning on that day, that was probably my curses causing it. The next picture shows one of the less waterlogged bits!
At this point I was still following the mapped route and took a left turn past a building that I presume was a horse ranch to follow it’s course. Thankfully the rain had passed at this stage and the sun was now visible overhead again. It was soon to warm to wear my waterproof coat so, after shaking off the water, I had to slip it back into a pocket in my backpack. I also got a view of Wallingwells Hall. Despite this being listed as a feature of the walk, I can’t say that it was worth the trouble I’d endured to reach this point, it being barely visible between some distant trees.
The next part of the path initially looked like it would be easier going – a grassy track between two horse pastures. It soon became apparent that this was as waterlogged as the earlier sections of the route though. If anything, the soft ground was deeper with water than anything I’d yet traversed and I was soon forced to try and support myself by grabbing fence posts (while trying to avoid the helpfully electrified strip that ran along the top of one side of the fence). After about a hundred meters of this particular adventure, I came upon a section of the path that was completely submerged from side to side for about ten feet or so. I ran through a number of ways I might pass this new obstacle, but the mental risk assessment going through my head saw no scenario that didn’t involve my feet becoming completely submerged above the tops of my boots. Reluctantly I had to make my way back the way I had come. Imagine my joy when, while grasping a fence post for support, I put my hand in a big deposit of bird shit!
After consulting my phone for an alternative route, I set off once more, this time planning to avoid any bridlepaths and, if possible, stick to paved routes. At least by this time the weather had brightened considerably. The next photograph I took was, as chance would have it, of a horse. I wonder if this was one that had churned the paths I’d taken into quagmires?
I soon passed a small group of houses, including this pleasant looking abode.
Thankfully, the paths along the section of the route back towards Carlton in Lindrick, while not dry, were at least much less muddy than those in the former sections.
The light was now quite nice and the next picture is my favourite from the walk (even if I did then take another wrong turn just after I shot it).
The final unpaved part of the route was a track through a field of oil seed rape which was just starting to show its vivid yellow flowers (not that you can tell with this black and white photograph). In the distance you can see Carlton in Lindrick returning to view.
A former watermill was one of the first sights to greet me upon re-entering the village.
Shortly beyond the mill is a pleasant looking gate house.
To the right of this was a grand looking house with the village church beyond.
At the end of this lane I rejoined the main road again. Despite this actually being just the halfway point of the hike, my feet were wet and I’d really had enough. I had no reason to expect more of the same muddy paths if I continued, so instead I popped into the Sherwood Ranger to give my hands a good wash and buy a welcome beer before heading back home. I might return and so the walk again at some point, but I will take great care to ensure it’s after a good spell of dry weather!
Standing on Bramall Lane, just across the road from the Sheffield United stadium, The Railway Hotel caters to fans on match days. Only home fans though, as the sign says.
The River Porter is one of several rivers flowing through Sheffield and it’s surrounding area. It’s source is on Burbage Moor and the river descends over one thousand feet as it flows into the city. This descent enabled the construction of water-powered industry in the city’s past.
When the river gets closer to the city centre, so it’s passage is hidden more and more by a series of culverts which take it beneath buildings and roads until it eventually joins the River Sheaf beside Midland Station.
There are plans to reveal Sheffield’s covered rivers, including the Porter, and this has taken place in some areas, such as the section in the photo below where, just beyond the bridge in the picture, a section of the culvert collapsed where it went beneath the car-park of the Decathlon sportswear store. Decathlon were persuaded to keep the newly revealed stretch of the river uncovered.
A little further downstream from this location, a pocket-park has been constructed to allow people to sit and enjoy the riverbank.
Steel City Snapper photography 