Today, Sheffield’s East End is mostly gone. Its streets and terraced houses have been demolished. The men, women and children who populated its soot-blackened neighbourhoods, huddled beneath the looming, thundering steelworks, have been scattered to newer housing developments. The seemingly endless landscape of steelworks and coal pits has also been consigned to memory. While the steel makers Forgemasters and Outokumpu remain, the land surrounding them has been cleared of their illustrious forebears and no longer teems with their workers. Light industries, retail parks and leisure outlets have taken their place. Attercliffe Road, once the main artery of a proudly self-contained district boasting its own schools, churches, pubs and even a department store, now accommodates little to please the eye of the passing observer. The constant bustle of thousands of workers maintaining a twenty-four-hour, three-shift system no longer fills the air with the clanging of trams, the clatter of bicycles and the scrape of hobnail boots on flagstones.