Month: July 2012

July 13th – This is just a wee reminder about how poor rubbish services are for some folk. The people here, between Four Oaks and Little Aston, live in one of the poshest, most exclusive areas of Birmingham. Sadly, refuse services in the Second City are still third rate; no wheelie bins here. For whatever reason, these bags of waste – recycling and general trash – have been missed and will lie here for another week.

Next time you hear someone grumbling about Walsall or Lichfield’s bin service, reflect on this.

July 12th – there seem to be a lot of traffic surveys going on in South Staffordshire at the moment. Lots of back lanes seem to have the familiar rubber pickups nailed to the asphalt, just like this one in Gravelley Lane, between Shenstone and Stonnall. These devices count vehicles, and many modern ones take a punt at guessing what yore driving. The black cables are actually flexible, soft pipes, sealed at one end (usually by tying it in a simple knot). Any vehicle tyre running over the pipe causes the air pressure to rise within, and activates a pressure switch in the counter. By analysing the number of pulses and distance apart in time, many units can now tell the difference between HGV’s passing and normal cars. This device is probably installed for a routine traffic survey, and will soon be moved to a different spot. Surveys like this are regularly taken by councils.

July 12th – Station to station on seemingly different days. I left for work this morning – again, I was in southeast Birmingham – in bright sunshine, with clear blue skies. I took my jumper off, enjoyed the breeze and the traffic. The view of the Bull Ring from Moor Street was particularly wonderful – so many architectural styles in one view. Sadly, on my return at 8:30pm, the day had turned nasty. Short heavy showers, separated by steady drizzle. Shenstone station looked as handsome as ever, but the weather was a real pain. Why do I seem to keep scaring summer off?

July 11th – After days of moaning about the rain, as I commuted home late this afternoon, the sun came out. This was so joyous to me that I cruised around the lanes of Shenstone for a while, dawning in the warmth, taking in the colours of nature around me. It had been an odd morning commute – I set out in purring rain, but got to the station in sunshine. I’ve been very down about the lack of summer in recent days, and the relentless grind of getting wet nearly every day has taken it’s toll on my mood. This ride, however, was restorative. Blue skies, light fluffy clouds and a gorgeous light. The wheat looked healthy, and the hedgerows and lane margins bristled with life. Excellent. 

July 11th – Acocks Green. I’ve discovered that taking the train to here, rather than Tyseley, rewards me with a nicer ride to my destination. Tyseley is very, very industrial, yet bordering it is a perfect, interwar Metroland of Victorian and Art Deco townhouses, on wooded, somnambulant streets. There is great, but modest architecture in these backways, and little traffic. The sun came through this morning, and lit the whole thing up – it felt like I was in an episode of Mr. Ben, or possibly ‘Keep the Aspidistra Flying’ – I couldn’t make my mind up which was more applicable. A lovely place. I think I’m in love.

July 10th – This is a terrible photo, but illustrates something that always comes as a shock. The first vanguard of the fruiting season are the formation of haws on the hawthorn hedges and thickets. These hard, bitter berries will take the rest of the summer to ripen, before being eaten by the birds over winter. The sight of these fruits swelling and turning crimson is a harbinger of autumn to me, and a sign of the seasons’s passage. Together with the rain, this did not make for a terribly uplifting ride home…

July 10th – There’s no end to the rain and grey weather. The light was so poor all day that my photos were all drab, lifeless and depressing. I’m sorry about that, it’s just the conditions. However, it’s July and high summer, and I’m commuting in high viz, full waterproofs and with lights on in daytime. This can’t go on: we must get the sun back eventually. Stuff Chasewater for a week or two, I want to feel the sun on my back and the freedom of cycling in a teeshirt and shorts again.

July 9th – All I want is a day – one day – without rain. Sadly, it wasn’t to be. Returning from Birmingham, the train disgorged it’s charges unexpectedly at Four Oaks, so I cycled up the hill out of the suburb, and then cruised down to Little Aston. At Mill Green, it began; a soft rain fell steadily. Coming up the hill to Shire Oak, I was hot, sweaty and tired. Then I realised: It had stopped raining. 100 metres round the bend, the roads were bone dry and it hadn’t rained at all. 

The weather we’re having right now is crazy.

July 9th – To be quite frank, I find this depressing. Finding myself in Tyseley again, I keep thinking about this sign. British Steel ceased to exist in 1999. I know Allen Rowland still exist in some form, but to me, this just symbolises the death of British industry. A fading sign for a long gone brand stood at the entrance to a half-derelict train yard, viewed from a decaying station. How very symbolic.