They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but it can also make a heart break. This is something I found to be true when the first lockdown of March 2020 meant I was forced to leave Sheffield suddenly.
I remember mine and my flatmates’ naive insistence that we would stay together in our student halls even if a lockdown was announced, deciding that it would be better to be stuck there than separated and sent back to our homes across the country indefinitely. I really believed we would, and remained stubborn even when it was revealed that those who left their flats would be receiving a refund for the final months of our (extortionate) rent.
One by one, it was decided that we simply couldn’t justify staying in Sheffield any longer.
I was devastated and remained in denial until the morning my mum travelled from our family home in Norfolk to collect me. In only a few hours I crammed my life into bin bags and took in Sheffield’s views for the last time in 5 months.
These 5 months consisted of your typical lockdown activities, such as baking banana bread and allowing TikTok to take over my entire existence. A weekly Zoom quiz with my flatmates was all that kept me connected to my life in Sheffield, allowing us to reminisce on our incredibly short first year.
It was only upon my eventual return that I realised that I hadn’t really seen Sheffield at all. My little house in Crookes felt worlds away from the student bubble of Endcliffe, and with The Leadmill still being closed we now had to find different activities to occupy our weekends. I visited Bole Hills, Crookes Valley Park, and the Peak District all for the first time that week, suddenly understanding what all those student ambassadors had been banging on about when they’d promoted the ‘green space’ of Sheffield.
It was only upon my eventual return that I realised that I hadn’t really seen Sheffield at all.
As restrictions became stricter and stricter moving into the Christmas period, it was this green space that became most invaluable. Online university had my friends and I trapped in our bedrooms most of the time, and it was the chilly winter walks that kept us (just about) sane.
It was not the same Sheffield that I had arrived at in September of 2019, the city of sticky shoes after a night at Corp and embarrassing photos taken in The Leadmill’s photo booth. But I think the clubs being closed forced us to appreciate Sheffield in a new way. It was now the city of Bole Hills BBQs, Ponderosa sunrises, CVP swims, and park crawls (think bar crawls but with off-licences).
I come from a city where it’s pretty rare to take huge amounts of pride in where you’re from, especially as a young person. Really, most people I knew at school couldn’t wait to leave Norwich. That’s why I think one of the most distinctive things about Sheffield is just how truly and deeply those who live here fall in love with the city.
And I can proudly say I’m one of them.
