January 23rd – on a grey, murky afternoon I cycled down the canal from Aldridge. I’d headed for the canal as I often do to escape the traffic, which seemed overly aggressive as I’d hit it during the school run.

Passing the Weinerburger Brick marl pit at Stubbers Green, I took a look into the void through the fence. It doesn’t get deeper, but it grows steadily, by gradual removal, dumper after dumper of red marl heading to the moulds and then the kilns.

That’s a lot of bricks come out of there. And what a huge scar on the landscape. But the one ever-present thing here – the familiar, warm smell of bricks being fired – is, like Burntwood’s permanent smell of vinegar – one of the ways I know I’m near home.