Sheffield (for David Smith)

M&G thoughtleader columnist David Smith was quick to nip in with a quip when UK comedian Alexander Armstrong tweeted a picture from the top of the “Sheffield Eye”, having told us:

It’s only ANOTHER beautiful day In Sheffield. Going to ride the massive wheel outside our hotel and will twitpic from the top. LOVE it here!

Smith was quick to come back with:

Is that comedy or do you really like Sheffield?

Armstrong assured us that there was no joking here – he loved the place. Whether he was being honest or not, I don’t know. I do know that he was playing a gig there a few hours later and that saying anything else would probably have been suicidal, but he seems a nice bloke, so let’s give him the benefit of the doubt.

Well, now Armstong’s (and my) view of Sheffield has been backed up by Max Davidson in the Telegraph, who – in his Nature’s best places to live – lists Sheffield as one of his “six most desirable locations to live” in the UK. My home city is listed along  alongside quaint villages and small towns, because, as Davidson points out:

People who only know Sheffield through The Full Monty will probably be surprised to learn that it has the highest number of trees per head of population of any city in Europe. With the Peak District on its doorstep, greenery is also spread unevenly across the city, but gives areas such as Broomhill, near the university, a rus in urbe charm that few British cities can match. Air quality is high for a conurbation of this size, with anti-pollution measures in place.

I had to just check my Latin to establish that rus in urbe essentially means “countryside in the city”. Which sounds just about right.
And as we all know – trees are good, right? And there are loads of them in Sheffield.

Because of its industrial heritage and geographic location – amongst the coal mines of north Nottinghamshire and South Yorkshire – together with the… erm…  “exposure” given to it by The Full Monty (a film which accurately portrayed the urban decay that hit the city during the 1980s, if not the route that most unemployed male residents took to improve their lives), Sheffield often gets a bad press. But that’s quite unfair, as Armstrong and Davidson have both noticed.

It’s something that I notice too – not having lived there for almost 20 years now, but having remained in constant contact with the place, it’s amazing to see the regeneration and the optimism that always seems to increase each time I go back “home”.
Of course, the industry is still there – it has to be – and there are problem areas like in any city. But there’s so much more to Sheffield than most people – including David Smith – realise.

And there are trees.

This post was in no way sponsored by Sheffield Tourism, although if they want to slip a few quid my way, I probably won’t say no.

Aciiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiid!

Hysterical British Tabloid Reporting (HBTR) returns to South Africa, a few months after comprehensively failing to derail the 2010 FIFA World Cup.

This from Sky News:

This isn’t anything new. These stories hit the SA newspapers months ago. But the Chernobyl link is nice – it’s obvious that they’ve had to think about things for a while before that one came to them. But once you consider the two issues, the similarity is obvious:

We were told that we were about to visit the most radioactive place on the whole trip. Geiger counters were brought out, and we watched the numbers double, triple, and quadruple, to a level far higher than we had seen near the reactor itself. Out the window we could see overgrown grass fields. It was clear nobody stopped here for trivial reasons. We drove through. It was clearly not a place for a roadside picnic.

and:

It is contaminated with uranium and other heavy metals and is as acidic as lemon juice.

Because Jo’burg is no place for a roadside picnic either.

But listen – this can be sorted out fairly easily. When I have lemon juice issues with my pancakes, I add some sugar. Perhaps that’s all that is needed here. Sugar, in Biblical proportions, pumped into the ground in Gauteng.

And then, once the threat of the Acid Mine Drainage has been neutralised, Emma T can tell us about the 9/11-style dental problems that sweetening Jo’burg’s foundations has caused.

This is a blog post about a news website article about a scientific paper

“The Lay Scientist” Martin Robbins opens the sluice gates of his reservoir of satire and lets the contents loose on the Guardian website:

And I can’t really do it justice here – you have to read it yourself by clicking the link above. Suffice to say it’s damn accurate – in fact, the only bit it really omits is the blatant scientifically incorrect statement somewhere within the article.

Even the commenters are getting in on the act:

Brilliant.

Is summer finally coming?

As proven by this weather forecast for Cape Town for the week ahead?

Things are looking up. It’s a good sign when even the cloudy days are warm. And I have it on good authority that we may be in for a 29°C scorcha!™ on Sunday. Bring forth my ceremonial braai tongs and slaughter that bloody sheep, Jennifer. Then make a salad.

Meanwhile, less good but far more spectacular weather for my parents in the Isle of Man as a particularly virulent area of low pressure rolled in across the Irish Sea:

This was taken by my Dad this morning in Port St Mary and has a distinctly Kalk Bay feel to it. A quick look at the latest weather report from the local airport suggests that the pressure is still falling there – not good news when you have a three-hour long boat crossing of that sea tomorrow like they do.

Bon voyage…

Last of LotSW

I can’t tell you how sad this is for me:

The world’s longest-running sitcom, Last of the Summer Wine, comes to an end this weekend. In the Yorkshire town where the series is set, fans are preparing to bid farewell to a TV institution.
On a soggy afternoon in Holmfirth, the Last of the Summer Wine tour bus is almost full. Sightseers peer through the rain-streaked windows at the cobbled streets and lush green fields that are part of sitcom history.

In this picturesque setting, three old friends ambled up hill and down dale – pondering life, plotting harebrained schemes and refusing to bow to the passing years.
For the coach load of tourists following in their footsteps, the journey is bittersweet. After 295 episodes, the summer wine has finally run dry.

Last of the Summer Wine was filmed just up the road from Sheffield in the Pennines and always reminds me of the beauty of my home country. When I first came over to SA, I was delighted to find it on DSTV: there’s something comforting about seeing “home” is still there when you’ve made such a big step.

Everyone in Yorkshire could easily identify with the three main characters, Foggy, Clegg and Compo: representing, as they did, varying tiers of British society, and meaning that one of them must have been like your granddad.

That said, it reinforced some terrible stereotypes about “God’s Own County” and the people that lived there (Compo drinking his tea out of his saucer in Ivy’s Tea Room springs immediately to mind), but even that gave it a certain comedic value before a word had even been spoken.

Fair enough, it was never the same once Compo and Foggy left the series (because they died – always a risk when filming a long running series with elderly protagonists, I guess). The more recent efforts were poor in comparison for me, simply because while there were still the ridiculous storylines, they revolved more around secondary characters – but it’s still sad to see it go.

More pictures here and unnecessary analysis here.