Month: June 2012

June 9th – I never tire of the view from the canal at Newtown, near Brownhills. Overlooking   the rolling countrysde towards Hammerwich, the church and windmill there are not the only landmarks visible. If you stand in just the right spot, on a clear day, you can see the 3 spires of Lichfield Cathedral visible through the Crane Brook valley. Right now, it’s green and verdant; but this is a great view in all four seasons, constantly changing in character. One of the great unknown gems of Brownhills.

June 8th – After all the rain, the canal overflow at Clayhanger Bridge was flowing well. Haven’t seen it this heavy since Chasewater was drained. I love the sound of the water here – it’s really relaxing. A very pleasant thing indeed.

June 8th – Returning from Walsall via the canal (it seemed to be drive like a moron day, and yet again, nobody had informed me), I noticed that with all the rain, the lupins were out. I love these flowers, and they used to grow with greater profusion here than they do now. On this bank of the new pond at Clayhanger, they seem to be being choked by a somewhat voracious growth of honeysuckle. The dilemma contemplating this is somewhat delicious considering the scarred industrial heritage of this land.

This, of course, was once the foot of a spoil heap.

June 8th – The devastation of the Great British public house continues unabated. In recent weeks two pubs have been lost at Longdon, Staffordshire, the Railway at Pelsall has closed and Brownhills own Royal ‘Middle’ Oak is up for sale. The Hatherton Arms closed some weeks ago, and now stands as a forlorn gateway to Walsall. Once a lovely little community boozer, it is interesting architecturally, and had a George V memorial brick set into the lounge wall. Sadly, it doesn’t look like reopening anytime soon, and would tenure that it’s probably awaiting the ultimate death by fire that so many abandoned Walsall buildings seem to succumb to. 
A great tragedy. 

June 7th – Between The Chuckery and Highgate in Walsall, the architecture on the Sutton Road continues to fascinate. On a wet Thursday evening, even in the dark murk of the tail end of a rainstorm, the glistening tiles, Victorian bays and ornate chimney pots still looked precious. A pleasure, whatever the season or weather.

June 7th – Birmingham New Street. This is Birmingham New Street. All regular travellers through Birmingham’s derided main station will recognise that tannoy jingle. I have a love-hate relationship with the place; dark, grubby, overcrowded, a nightmare on a bike or for the elderly or disabled. Yet, unlike so many stations, the layout is logical, compact and easy to grasp. It just carries way too much traffic and we need a new station – possibly on Eastside – to relieve it, then maybe the platforms could be reduced in number and widened, some natural light could be let in. 

There’s history, here, too, but not many realise. The arches at the end of platform 2 and 3 are a remnant of the original Victorian Station, as are many of the retaining cutting walls. The signal box – a remarkable Brutalist style structure designed by Bicknell & Hamilton to resemble an electrical component, is listed and a wonderful thing. As developers tear away at the upper levels, the ‘regeneration’ (how I hate that word) of this much misunderstood transport hub will not solve any of it’s functional problems, but I’m still rather fond of the old dump, if I’m honest.

June 6th – The life I mentioned in the last post manifested itself in many ways. Birds sang, flitted and fought in the hedgerows. I saw a fox stalking near Lynn, and there were rabbits and even hares aplenty. After the deluge, nature was busy doing it’s thing. On the footpaths at Sandhills, Shire Oak, there was a profusion of snails, of several different shapes, colours and sizes. It made walking a unexpectedly challenging activity…

June 6th – My luck held. Arriving back at Shenstone far later than I expected, the ride was joyous in a post-rainstorm countryside that thrummed with life. It was a gorgeous, blue-skied evening, somewhat belying the poor weather due tomorrow. As I crawled up Shire Oak Hill, I noticed that the sun setting had cast an odd light behind the flats in Brownhills. Viewed across Home Farm fields, I still hate that new colour scheme. It looks unfinished.

June 6th – I left Darlaston late in the afternoon to head to Tyseley for an important meeting at short notice. This happened to coincide with heavy downpours, which I managed to avoid with an air of smugness that must surely come before a drowning. At 5:45pm, Moor Street in Birmingham was busy, and wringing wet in the midst of a rainstorm. At the other end of my short hop, I waited ten minutes for the rain to ease off. With all the gutter-less canopies, Tyseley is surprisingly hypnotic in the rain.

June 5th – In virtually the same spot as the deer, I spotted a kestrel hunting. It did that thing they seem to do; floating, almost static in free air, studying it’s prey on the ground with a gimlet eye, before thinking better of it and returning to it’s pylon perch. These are lovely, graceful birds that seem increasingly populous here. Or maybe I’m just noticing them more. Either way, they’re wonderful, and like the deer, I could watch them for hours.