December 27th – A cruise around Brownhills in the dark of a damp but moonlit night was odd. It didn’t feel like Sunday, in what must be considered the perineum of the year, this netherworld between Christmas and the return of normality at the turn of the new year. It felt like nowhere – there were no people about, the factories and homes were quiet. Only the pubs showed life, and the open, but deserted takeaways on the High Street.
This time of the year can either be really enjoyable, or purgatory. It’s never middling.



