Letter: Anywhere but the heart of Sheffield

It’s a cold rainy day and I'm on a damp walk round the Anglican Cathederal away from the bustle of Fargate.

Paradise Square is beginning to look a little shabby with its removed brass plates and one or two window frames peeling.

A couple of polite students exit from former offices dating back to the eighteenth century.

On East Parade the former Office of Industrial Tribunals has lost a bit of dignity along with with its Royal Coat of Arms while the alleyway by the Old Bank House has mindless graffiti scrawled by mindless people who need dealing with.

So too the coffee shop further along while on the green sward of the Cathedral an abandoned sleeping bag adds to the impression of an area that's a wee bit shabby.

Not abandoned is the memorial that though weathered has a wreath of poppies to those who laid down their lives in the South Atlantic, the rain sodden poppies flare even more scarlet while the copper leaves and ancient trees and the chime of the bells and the century old memorials beginning to wear out make you think you could be anywhere but the heart of Sheffield.

Across the street that awful clip on replacement that is Coles Corner sticks out like a sore thumb and is as ever totally out of place.

The thought strikes me that this is no time to lose planning staff.

Just a thought - just a thought in a conservation area on a Saturday afternoon in Sheffield, a place with a bit of soul unlike the anonymous monolithic structures that are the name of the game these days.