It was a comfortably warm Saturday evening and I’d been in Sheffield since a little after nine am. I’d had a quietly satisfactory day, no great dramas, just plans falling into place with the precision of a well maintained watch. I’d covered all the places I’d come to see and noted a few more to come back to on future visits. Now as the day was morphing quietly into the evening, the day’s heat beginning to ease back out of the stone and brick of the buildings as the temperature eased with the promise of the coming night I made my way down to the Victoria Canal Basin. It was on my list of extras, fillers in case a location didn’t work out as planned or I gained some time on the day. The monthly food and drink market was in progress. Barbecue smoke drifted about with an aimless laziness, scents of garlic and chilli made a pungent appearance the buzzing of many conversations rose and fell like the waves breaking on a shore. The was food, there was good beer and there was a little bit of unclaimed time to enjoy them with.