Mr Sheffield Quotes

Martin of Sheffield, Age Twenty-Nine He kissed her like she knew she was meant to be kissed. He smelled of gardens, tricked her brain into believing she was irresistible, and made the idea of falling in love seem possible again. But really he was an actor posing as a gardener, who posed as a gentleman during balls in an Austenland estate where she’d gone to find out if she could let her fantasy of Mr. Darcy die at last. Seriously. Also, he turned out to be a jackass.

It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Sheffield,” he said politely. “I do hope you will favor me with one of your dances this evening.” “I— Of course.” She cleared her throat. “I would be honored.” “Kate,” Mary said, nudging her softly, “show him your dance card.” “Oh! Yes, of course.” Kate fumbled for her dance card, which was tied prettily to her wrist with a green ribbon. That she had to fumble for anything actually tied to her body was a bit alarming, but Kate decided to blame her lack of composure on the sudden and unexpected appearance of a heretofore unknown Bridgerton brother. That, and the unfortunate fact that even under the best of circumstances she was never the most graceful girl in the room. Colin filled his name in for one of the dances later that evening, then asked if she might like to walk with him to the lemonade table. “Go, go,” Mary said, before Kate could reply. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be just fine without you.” “I can bring you back a glass,” Kate offered, trying to figure out if it was possible to glare at her stepmother without Mr. Bridgerton noticing. “Not necessary. I really should get back to my position with all the other chaperones and mamas.” Mary whipped her head around frantically until she spied a familiar face. “Oh, look, there is Mrs. Featherington. I must be off. Portia! Portia!” Kate watched her stepmother’s rapidly retreating form for a moment before turning back to Mr. Bridgerton. “I think,” she said dryly, “that she doesn’t want any lemonade.” A sparkle of humor glinted in his emerald green eyes. “Either that or she’s planning to run all the way to Spain to pick the lemons herself.” -Colin, Kate, & Mary

I was wondering about the origin of the word hat trick. Where does it come from? Cricket doesn’t have much to do with hats, does it?’ ‘I think it was at Sheffield’s Hyde Park ground in 1858. An All-England cricket team was engaged in a cricket match against the Hallam XI. During the match, H.H. Stephenson of the All-England XI took three wickets in three balls. As was customary at the time for rewarding outstanding sporting feats, a collection was made. The proceeds were used to buy a white hat, which was duly presented to the bowler.’ ‘And was Stephenson grateful?’ ‘History is, I fear, silent on this important subject, Geordie. But Mr Ali’s hat trick certainly made our own little contribution to cricketing statistics.’ ‘Although

Singing changes your brain. It reduces cortisol and increases the release of endorphins and oxytocin. Some people have to take drugs to do that. Why not just have a bit of a singalong? Singing in groups is even better. Scientists, not musicians, have found that our heart rates sync up when we sing together. You don’t even have to be any good. Don’t believe me? I refer you to the University of Sheffield’s memorable 2005 paper: ‘Effects of group singing and performance for marginalised and middle-class singers.

Mr. Wayne is an owner of The Sheffield, Blue,” Tiffa said simply. I tried not to quake. Tiffa turned back to Mr. Wayne. I wondered briefly if his first name was Bruce. He looked like he could have a Batmobile stashed on the roof.

You’ve Really Got a Hold on Me” and “Money (That’s What I Want),” but for me “Please Mr. Postman” houses them both. It’s another blizzard of oh yeah screams—in America “Please Mr. Postman” was on The Beatles’ Second Album alongside “She Loves You” and “I’ll Get You,” making it a concept album about the word “yeah.