Sheffield lies before us, mounting the slope from the river valley, a tangle of overlapping stained brick and rooftops, as though the buildings are climbing over each other to escape to the still-green peaks. It is dirtier than I remember, the noise of the foundries and steelworks louder, though we are at least a mile from any industry. I can taste metal in the air. I think of all the hundreds of people at work under every roof and behind every wall, bent and stretched over a hoard of steel, hammering and scouring, filing and polishing, to send up a fog of filigree fragments to hang ever in
...more
