BrownhillsBob

April 20th – Again managing to miss the rain, a morning spent in Leicester meant calling in for some shopping on the way home. Heading off the Walsall Road at Leomansley through the new estate on the southern fringe of Lichfield, I was struck, as I always am, by how close and claustrophobic this development is. Consisting of surprisingly large houses interspersed with flats and starter homes, the buildings are drab, square boxes with tiny gardens. Crammed shoulder to shoulder, the sunlight comes through here only in patches, and the sky is a long way up. Odd then, that in the middle, a brook that always flowed here was expanded into a kind of green lung, a ribbon of grass, small trees and water, meandering through the fake Georgian architectural hubris like an unwanted puddle of oil in an otherwise clinically clean factory floor. This place is soulless.

April 20th – Britain is obsessed with it’s refuse. I say obsessed, but only to a certain extent. We become very energised about having it taken away – debates rage about recycling, bi-weekly collections and fines. Oddly enough, we never seem too bothered about where our rubbish goes after it’s collected, so long as the landfill or incinerator isn’t near us or something we love. Walsall Council gets a fair amount of stick for it’s waste service, but I feel it’s generally unfair. We have wheelie bins, and decent schedules. Here in Leicester, rubbish is left out in different coloured bags the night before, where foxes and cats rip it open and spread it around. Bags frequently split on handling and their contents litter the road. The residents of Leicester, like those of Birmingham, would love a service as clean and reliable as that in Walsall.

April 19th – Returning from Lichfield, I was still managing to avoid the showers. Everywhere seemed damp, verdant and growing. Birds scuttled in an out of the hedgerows, rabbits darted into ditches and roadside warrens. Crossing the M6 toll at Summerhill, near Sandhills, the weak sunlight captured a field of oilseed rape near Stonnall, lit the whole thing up and made it precious. Some moments catch the light like diamonds.

April 19th – I’m fascinated by the machinery of the railways. I’m no train spotter, and wouldn’t cross the road to watch a train go by. However, as a train traveller of a certain geeky nature, things like signalling, communications and the weird and wonderful machines that one sees whilst negotiating the morass that is the British railway system hold a certain fascination. At a wind-blown and damp Nuneaton, there sat an incredibly complex ballast regulating machine. This Austrian made train levels, adjusts and cleans the ballast, the bed of shale under the track, and keeps the track in perfect condition. Usually run with a tamper (the yellow machine parked behind), a train that measures and corrects the sleeper and track positions, this is a very complex machine indeed. While I was admiring it, a General Motors class 66 locomotive trundled through the station; at a little over walking pace, it clanked its couplings, pulling upwards of thirty containers behind. The raw, yet controlled power of that – the noise, vibration and sheer presence – is awe inspiring.

You’d have to be dead not to be impressed by that…

April 19th – A week of threatening dark skies continued. I had, however, been oddly lucky; I had to go to Leicester for a few days, and only caught a light shower on the way. As I arrived at South Wigston early morning, the gloom gathered, and it rained throughout the day, but held off just as the I awaited my return train that afternoon. I know we need the rain, but psychologically, I need some summer. A real quandary…

April 18th – A river ran down the A461 Lichfield Road at Sandhills after a moderate shower. Out of all the storm gullies on the Walsall bound side of the hill, only 2 were flowing freely, all the others were blocked with silt. It seems that Tarmac – the contractors looking after the roads for Walsall Council – don’t like to bother cleaning drains. I’m 100% sure that the jobs are passed on, but in four years, I’ve never got a gully cleaned out. I give up, to be honest. Most of the storm drains on Shire Oak’s main roads are blocked.

April 18th – Baby weather – wet and windy, but warm. I worked from home before heading off mid-morning for a meeting in Redditch. It was drizzly and wet, but the riding through Stonnall and Little Aston was great. I saw lots of birds – great tits, blue tits, long-tailed tits, greenfinches, bullfinches, goldfinches, buzzards, a kestrel, a jay. I saw a countless rabbits, and a fox. Summer is coming. I can feel it. The rain is getting warmer….

Nuclear Bunker, Lifeguard station behind

vwcampervan-aldridge:

This Nuclear Bunker is at Lepe Country Park , Hampshire overlooking the beach and the Solent. For years relatives of mine came here when on their holidays and enjoyed the park right next to the beach. There was an Ice Cream van parked right by this overgrown compound – and there is the Nuclear Bunker. How many folk have been on that park and never noticed it? I have been going there for years and have ran past it every time I’ve been there but never noticed it.

Hiding in plain sight I think they call this, I got some looks just taking pictures of what looks like a few manhole covers. The ice-cream man nearby knew all about it and said the BBC had been there recently doing a piece on it for local history.

It was in decent condition considering it’s close the sea and gets all the weather blowing in. The brown container nearby is the lifeguard station for use in the summer. Note the white VW van in the top left corner of one of the pictures – they get everywhere!

April 17th – Cowslips are my favourite wildflower, and thankfully, proliferating once more, despite their apparent appeal to rabbits, who devour them with gusto. They are actually a type of primrose, and I love their delicate flowers and hardy, resilient tenacity. These two patches on Clayhanger Common I guerrilla planted a few years ago, from a pack of wildflower seeds bought from a National Trust shop.

April 17th – I’d been lucky and missed the day’s intemperate, sharp showers. Feeling smug, nature slapped me about the face when I was nearly back in Brownhills. At 4:45pm, the heavens opened and spat down the most violent hailstorm. Sheltering in a bus stop, I waited for it to pass – I’m no fair weather cyclist, but I draw the limit at being pebbledashed.
Within 15 minutes, the sun came out and the sky returned to the threatening darkness that it had been wearing for most of the day. Inspired, I headed to Clayhanger and the new pool. I noted swans were nesting there, too, and how green everything seemed to be becoming. Dawdling, I was just clipped by the rain as I returned home… going to be an interesting week of commuting, I think.