Up and Down

It's refreshing to return to spectacular skies, and Sheffield is a spectacular city to offset them - built on towering hills and steep valleys, the power of the water its cornerstone, and sometimes its curse. It has prevailed, I think, against the post-industrial malaise that has overcome many areas of the North and Midlands. I sense resurgence, optimism and cheerful defiance

Our strong, fit children think little of the slopes. We put a bit more planning into our pedestian journeys than we might at home. Our adventures with our grandson centred on experiencing the crunching and flying of autumn leaves, under the trees at the top of the park; the swings and rides in the playground at the bottom of the hill were not mentioned - a strategy we will not be able to get away with for ever

The slopes create a layered landscape: our son & family live in a close-by house like these. The land falls steeply behind them to a brook in the valley hidden below. The backdrop of apparently small trees is actually just the tops of towering specimens that form an area of ancient woodland lining the stream

There is also an area of public green space down there called the 'Gleadless valley'. 'Glead' (or 'gleed') to me is the red glow beneath the grey ashes of a fire that has gone out; with luck and skill you might kindle a new fire from it. To be 'gleadless' feels a bit like being without hope, rather mournful, but the place does not reflect the name

The bright decoration of the high-rise buildings in the middle distance reflect exactly the optimism I feel here. You need a bit of positive energy to push something like that through committees and approval processes. In the distance beyond the city stretches on, from hilltop to hilltop, still growing