February 5th – I’d nipped into Brum late in the afternoon on an errand, and came back to Shenstone on a surprisingly empty commuter service. The wind was again building up and it wasn’t going to be a pleasant ride home. 

I love Shenstone Station. It’s like a lot of things in life – it was once truly beautiful, but is now aged, still beautiful, but weatherworn and a haunting reminder of something once glorious. At night in particular, it whispers of a more genteel railway age.

Leaving here on a Friday with a bad ride home to come, the one frustrating aspect is the steps. The northbound platform from which I alighted has no level access, and one must heft the bike up the steps, only to ride back down to the same level off the bridge.

It always seems a little bit pointless, like an assault course… but it’s always nice to be here.