I took a walk around High Green - the birthplace of the Arctic Monkeys

It’s a place that still buzzes quietly with the pride of that connection, even as everyday life ticks on at its usual pace.

I parked up by The Pack Horse, a pub immortalised in local legend as the site of the Monkeys’ first ever gig.

Even on a weekday, the place was lively – sunshine drawing out punters to its benches, pints in hand, while a bouncy castle tucked away in the corner kept the kids occupied long enough for their parents to enjoy five minutes of peace.

From there, I wandered into the heart of High Green. The main drag is small but mighty – packed with everything a local could need: a pharmacy, post office, pet shop, barbers galore, and a florists.

But it was Cone’s Hardware Shop that truly stood out – a real Aladdin’s cave of the unexpected. Inside, past the usual shelves of paint tins and screws, I found Barbie dolls, birthday cards, stationery, and a surprisingly good selection of snacks. It was the kind of place where, as the owner Denise put it, you come in for one thing and leave with half your Christmas shopping.

Denise was warm and helpful, and clearly proud of her roots here.

“It’s changed a lot,” she said, gesturing around the shop.

“Across the road from this shop, where there are now flats, used to all be farmland. Cows used to literally be slaughtered there. Before my time, mind you. Then it was a bakery, a flower shop - always something new.”

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I followed the road up past the shops, and the butchers caught my eye. A proper old-school place, with warm pasties and pies on sale.

As I pushed through the metal bead curtain and stepped inside, I was instantly hit by the smell—rich, savoury, unmistakable. You don’t get that in supermarkets.

Inside, I found Kevin Williams, the owner of one of the last remaining traditional butchers I’ve seen in a long while. I caught him mid-pork pie. “Best one in High Green,” he said, grinning.

He was warm and straight-talking, the kind of person who knows everyone and everything that's ever gone on within a two-mile radius.

We stood among the sausages and steak pies while he told me about the area -how it had changed, and what still made it feel like home.

“It’s a good place to live, but it used to be better,” he said.

“Back in the day, we had pubs on every corner - I ran most of them at one point or another, or at least knew the owners. Now they’re almost all gone.”

He shook his head.

“The pub scene just ain’t what it used to be. Rent’s gone up, breweries take over, and the soul of it disappears.”

Ironically, the oldest pub in High Green – is now a Sainsbury’s Local.

Denise had told me earlier that this caused quite the stir in the area, and Kevin seconded that.

“Up there, where Morrisons is, that used to be Nisa. And down by Sainsburys, well that used to be a pub too. You wouldn’t believe it was the same place sometimes,” he said.

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Across the road, Kylie was waiting outside High Green Primary School to collect her daughter.

“The school’s lovely, really friendly,” she said.

The area is great for the kids, they love it here: loads of parks and afterschool clubs.

“But the roads...don't get me started. There was an accident outside the gates not long ago - it’s hectic around here at pick-up time.”

She’s lived in High Green for 12 years, after moving from Skegness.

“It’s not bad, but it can be a bit boring. There’s hardly any pubs left now, just two in High Green - if you want a drink, you’ve got to head down to Chapeltown now,” she said.

High Green might not be the buzzing hub it once was, but there’s a quiet resilience here. The pride in its history - from its musical fame to its meat counters - still runs deep.

Locals remember what was, and while they might mourn the pubs and pastimes that have slipped away, they’re still here.

From my own time in the area, I can say this: what it might lack in modern amenities, it more than makes up for in warmth and charm. I’ve never met so many people so eager to strike up a conversation - to tell me about their lives, their memories, and the stories of their suburb.

There’s a family feel here. People bump into each other in shops and stop for a good old chinwag before continuing on with their day.

And somewhere, maybe in a garage or a pub (if you can find one), a teenager is strumming chords that might just be the start of the next big thing.

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