Last week I went on walk two of my children
Patrick and Holly. We walked from
Sheffield Railway Station to the Rutland Arms.
Those of you that know Sheffield will
possibly know that isn’t a great distance.
And for those of you who have not yet had the pleasure of visiting this
wonderful city can log into Google Maps and discover that is a journey of 498
feet.
On the way we passed the Showcase Cinema,
where on Orange Wednesdays Holly and myself often go and watch a film. She no longer wishes to introduce me to the
current offering from America’s
latest teenage matinee idol, but wishes to see foreign language adaptations of
the lesser known works of Shakespeare. This isn’t because particularly pretentious
as she is one of the most down to earth women I know and loves engaging in the
conversation this inspires.
One of the things that I love about Sheffield is that somebody at the local council decided
that it was a good thing to put poetry on the sides of buildings. You can walk round a corner and be introduced
to a poem by the likes of Harold Pinter, Jarvis Cocker or Andrew Motion. I would prefer my council invest in poetry
than enter into some twinning venture with a small town in Italian Tyrol. I don’t like Andrew Motion’s poem on the side
of Sheffield Hallam University,
but I’m pleased someone decided to put it there.
Holly reminds Patrick “You could have gone
to that University, if you had of got the required grades”. He missed out on a place at Hallam, but
gained a place at Leeds. Holly accepted a place at the University of Sheffield to study Sociology. I’m not sure about the quality pf the
teaching of Sociology at Sheffield University or Geography at Hallam, but I know that
her decision to study in sunny Yorkshire was
influenced by a desire to be close to me.
Over the past few years I have not been a
model father and I have chosen to wallow for long periods in self pity, rather
than spend time with my children. I am
very fortunate in that they have chosen to present me with the opportunity to spend
time with them.
We chose The Rutland because it is an Old
Man’s pub that sells a wide selection of beer, comfortable seats, and is
conducive to having a conversation. Rather than a pub on West Street, that sells one brand of
lager and a selection of cheap cooking vodkas, where it is impossible to find a
seat and you struggle to hear anything other than some loud crap music.
I’ve recently spent a great deal of time
with Holly and she impresses me in so many ways. She is energetic, clever and witty, understanding
and empathy come very easily to her, she rarely sits on the fence and her
arguments are often intellegently well thought out, and she can prepare a
risotto in a way that is well beyond her years,.
Patrick recently presented me with a bowl
of pasta over which he had poured a tin Sainbury's pasta sauce and regarded it
as haute cuisine. In the Rutland, it was Patrick
that surprised me. He was confident and
spoke with authority on number of topics, he demonstrated that he had got
principals in refusing to take up the opportunity of working at Olympic Games,
and displayed a kind gentile nature.
At the end of the evening I walked Patrick
to the railway station, I gave him a big hug like I’ve never hugged him before
and told him “today I recognised that you are no longer a boy but a clever,
kind, gentle, thoughtful, handsome young man and I love you”
Compared to an 800km stroll across Spain we undertook a very short walk along the streets of Sheffield, but we managed to travel such long way.
Compared to an 800km stroll across Spain we undertook a very short walk along the streets of Sheffield, but we managed to travel such long way.
No comments:
Post a Comment