Three-Legged Cat » The Universe

My Favourite Places

Lois Lindemann — Wed, 23 Feb 2011 18:49:23 +0000

Last summer, Eleven, a local creative design studio produced a very nice little booklet and accompanying website called ‘Our Favourite Places’, a very personal guide to some of Sheffield’s restaurants, shops, bars, parks and so on. (There’s a nice review here on Sheffieldblog.) I really liked the mix of photos, maps and descriptions. Much as I enjoyed the book, the best part was debating what had (or had not) been included.

So I think it’s time for my own guide. Many of my favourites feature in Eleven’s guide, but some don’t. Some of the things on my list are places worth visiting in their own right (eg the Millenium Galleries), others just offer up a few interesting moments if your’re in the area (such as the Sheffield TARDIS).

This is probably also a good excuse to revive the Beginner’s Guide to Sheffield, which is long overdue for an update and an overhaul.

Anyway, here’s a few that I’ve already mentioned, more will be added on a thoroughly irregular basis during the coming weeks and months :

View Sheffield: My Favourite Places etc in a larger map

TLC’s Midnight Garden

Lois Lindemann — Tue, 24 Aug 2010 22:59:00 +0000

An unexpected treat tonight: walking through town we passed the Winter Gardens. Have they always been open so late? I’m sure they used to be bolted and barred from early evening.

Anyway, in we went and discovered that we had the place to ourselves (I’m sure there was a security guard/City Centre Ambassador/CCTV camera lurking somewhere, but we didn’t see them). We wandered among the plants, enjoyed looking at the shadows and had our own private viewing of the Pictures of Sheffield exhibition. A dimly lit private viewing, but still fun.

I’m surprised to discover that the gardens are open until 11pm most days. Should you happen to be passing, I can recommend a late evening promenade. It feels rather pleasantly fairytale magical in there.

Photo: Leafy by Phil Moore. Used under Creative Commons Licence.

Buckminster Fullercleaner

Lois Lindemann — Thu, 19 Aug 2010 21:46:42 +0000

Sometimes I’m so glad that my camera is always in my pocket. This was taken at the Cite des Sciences et de l’Industrie in Paris.

It’s just crying out for a caption isn’t it?

Any suggestions?

The Dish of the Day

Lois Lindemann — Sun, 27 Jun 2010 18:57:00 +0000

Our trip around the highways and byways of Britain took us through Derbyshire, across the Pennines and into Cheshire.

We passed through Smalltown, where I used to live, so we took a little detour to allow me to point out my old house to Mr TLC. It was rather strange to drive through the area where I grew up, but which I haven’t visited for more than two decades. A little nostalgia is always nice, but I can’t say I’ve missed the place.

We headed off for our first planned stop, which is one of my favourite places: Jodrell Bank, home to the University of Manchester’s beautiful radio telescope.

The first thing that strikes you about the Lovell telescope is its sheer size: with a height of up to 89 metres (depending on exactly how it is oriented) and a bowl diameter of 76 metres it really is impressive.

Mr TLC had his usual effect – he is after all the man who can make Tower Bridge open just by expressing the desire to see it do so. He casually mentioned that he would like to see the telescope move. Sudden creaks, whirrs and the sounds of various motors indicated that Mr TLC was about to get his wish. First we were treated to the sight of the whole structure rotating on the railway tracks it sits on. This occurred at a surprisingly fast speed – the telescope moves constantly, to correct for the earth’s rotation, but normally rather more imperceptibly. Then the dish tilted downwards until it was almost facing us. It was a treat to watch.

There’s various other things to see and do there: a planet trail, an arboretum to visit, a couple of parabolic dishes that will allow you to whisper sweet nothings to someone standing several metres away. We skipped the 3D theatre, but we did stop off to say hello to Copernicus before heading off to meet some charming folk.

[more pictures coming soon]

The Black Box

Lois Lindemann — Sat, 23 Jan 2010 20:10:30 +0000

Sneaky backpost #1
We’ve got it down to a ritual now: check in, dump suitcase, go and say hello to the river. (Yes, I’m afraid I do mean that literally.) Then off to a pub that is blessed with a Very Fine Location Indeed for a drink (that’s drink as in coffee btw, it wasn’t even lunchtime) and some time spent contemplating the river and the London skyline.

I love the river in a completely illogical way. There is almost nothing about its modern day self that connects it to the river of my early childhood, but sitting next to a lot of murky brown water as it flows past, oblivious to my presence, makes me feel strangely connected to the city that I never wanted to leave. Of course I wouldn’t want to return now, not to live there anyway, but it’s still nice to visit.

Our afternoon stretched invitingly ahead of us, what to do? A trip to Tate Modern? A mooch around Borough Market? A stroll down the Thames? Or even all three. Hey, I’m a tourist, I’m allowed to do that kind of stuff.

Our jaunt to Tate Modern brought our first encounter with the rather large black box that is currently occupying the Turbine Hall. Despite having encountered a few online spoilers, it still manged to surprise.

It wasn’t the only surprise of the day. Our trip to the Tate also produced a rather improbable event: a chance encounter with someone I knew. (Yes, in London. Only the third time in my entire life that has happened.)

It was like a film scene: we were on the down escalator, gliding past Lovely S, one of my French teachers, who was (where else?) on the up escalator. We smiled and waved and called out “Hellooo!” and “How are you?” to each other, but we had passed out of range before either of us managed to reply. Were the amazed stares that we received from some of the assorted onlookers caused by the fact that I sounded like someone who had wandered out of a 1950s movie or did they think they were witnessing some kind of bizarre performance art?

That’s the second carefully choreographed little scene I’ve played out in the space of a few weeks. How odd. Is my life actually a fly-on-the-wall movie? Do you see me on your TVs and think “Ha, I read her blog and she has no idea we’re watching this.”

I’ve never watched The Truman Show (Why not? Jim Carrey, that’s why not), but perhaps I should.

Walking the Rivelin Valley – Part Three

Lois Lindemann — Sat, 02 Jan 2010 23:59:51 +0000

The sound of water is always in the background as you walk along the valley. Sometimes its a quiet babble, at others its a crashing roar, but its never far away. It’s not hard to see why there was such a concentration of mills in this area.

There are reminders that you aren’t far from the city, but this is one of the things I love about Sheffield: there are lots of places like this right on my doorstep.

The area is carefully mangaged, mostly by volunteers who spend hours cutting back trees, conserving dams and working hard to keep the area in a condition where it can be enjoyed by everyone: we met walkers, runners and cyclists, but also encountered birds and squirrels. We even got a glimpse of a heron.

There are three cast waymakers in the valley. The design is supposed to reflect the various features of the valley: flowing water, industry (in the form of wheels and products such as cutlery) and nature (in the form of seed pods). They are rather attractive, although like many things in this area, they suffer from the attentions of local vandals. (regular readers will know that I love grafitti when it is urban art, but this isn’t art.) Each one is at the site of a former wheel and tells something of its history. (If you would like to read the inscriptions, click the photos to link to larger images.)

Towards the end of our walk, we were rewarded with a sighting of the rare and shy Rivelin Valley Stick Monster. The scene at the end of the walk is beautiful, but it’s particularly lovely on a grey wintry day.

One piece of advice: don’t do as we did and spend so long admiring things, that you don’t have enough daylight left to get home. Our afternoon finished with a rapid march back along the unlit section of Manchester Road, wondering if we would get to the streetlights before darkness arrived. We did, but only just.

All of my Rivelin Valley photos are here.

Further reading: Walking the Rivelin, a pocket guide to the Rivelin Valley Nature Trail by Keith Kendall is available locally, including from the Rivelin Valley Cafe

Walking the Rivelin Valley – Part Two

Lois Lindemann — Fri, 01 Jan 2010 07:00:27 +0000

Standing and looking at the site of the former Mousehole Forge I was struck by how peaceful it was. These days it’s a private house, but when it was a working forge I suspect the noise would have drowned out the sound from the river.

The site has a long history, but is most famous for producing the Mousehole Anvils that were exported all over the world. Hundreds of these still exist, in fact Keith Kendall’s booklet ‘Walking the Rivelin’ includes a copy of an old press cutting in which it is claimed that the famous anvil at Gretna Green has a Mousehole stamp.

We peeked through the gates at the remains of some of the old forge buildings before heading on along the valley.

We hadn’t gone much further when we met my own personal nemesis: some stepping stones. I don’t know who feels more dismayed to see stepping stones: I cannot seem to cross them without falling off, Mr TLC always tries to be helpful and is absolutely lovely, but still recognises that stepping stones mean trouble ahead. Especially when I hadn’t come prepared to stick on some flip flops and get wet feet. This was supposed to be a gentle stroll. We diverted. Who wants to cross that river anyway?

We were soon back on track and after a quick stop at the Rivelin Cafe to buy our copy of ‘Walking the Rivelin’ we continued to meander along, stopping to look at old millstones, tumbledown buildings and possibly the world’s least informative information board. (It was obviously new, it probably has some information by now.)

I was struck, as always, by how small some of these places were, not pleasant places to work in by any means.

More pictures tomorrow, or if you can’t wait, all of my Rivelin Valley photos are here.

Further reading: Walking the Rivelin, a pocket guide to the Rivelin Valley Nature Trail by Keith Kendall is available locally, including from the Rivelin Valley Cafe

Walking the Rivelin Valley – Part One

Lois Lindemann — Thu, 31 Dec 2009 19:05:13 +0000

Walking hasn’t happened for me this week. A combination of illness (first me, then Mr TLC going down with ye olde traditional Christmas holiday lurgy) and leaky boots (the only pair in which I can stay upright on slippy, icy surfaces) have conspired against me. So, as I sit here in my armchair, I thought I’d take you on a virtual wintry walk instead.

According to local legend, Sheffield is built on seven hills. It isn’t, but it was built on several rivers, the water from which powered the city towards it’s position as an industrial giant. Earlier this year we re-explored one of Mr TLC’s favourite walks along one of those rivers.

Our walk followed the Rivelin Valley Nature Trail from Malin Bridge to the Rivelin Post Office. The trail is beautiful, but for me, the most interesting things on it are the many relics of Sheffield’s industrial past.

We began slightly before the ‘official’ trail gets going, by stopping off to admire the Malin Bridge Corn Mill. There has been a mill here since 1739, but the original structure was destroyed in the Great Sheffield Flood of 1864. It was rebuilt and went through many changes of use: from grinding knives to becoming a corn mill, after which it served as a clothing warehouse, a branch of Comet and a Chinese restaurant. In recent years it lay empty and had fallen into decline, despite being listed. How the site should be developed caused some controversy, but developers were finally given permission to convert the building into flats, with strict controls to preserve the historic building and the water wheel. You can see some of the completed renovations in the photo at the start of this post. I think they did a great job.

Both the wheel and mill race are visible from the road. The wheel is an undershot wheel, one of only a few that survive in the UK today. Following the renovation, it is now in excellent condition, but don’t expect to see it turning.

Once we had finished admiring the mill, we crossed the road and set off down the trail. This short stretch of river once housed 20 mills and 21 dams, so there is plenty to see. We probably spent more time stopping to admire wintry reflections and explore the remains of old industires than we spent walking.

More pictures tomorrow, or if you can’t wait, all of my Rivelin Valley photos are here.

Further reading: Walking the Rivelin, a pocket guide to the Rivelin Valley Nature Trail by Keith Kendall is available locally, including from the Rivelin Valley Cafe