Author: BrownhillsBob

I told the truth - but told it bent. Wandering around bemused and ranty since 2007.

November 14th – Leamonsley is old, old Lichfield. Up until about 20 years ago, it was a distinct village, or hamlet on the Walsall Road into Lichfield, but it has since been laid siege to by modern housing estates and ribbon development. Subsumed by the terribly expansive sprawl of an expanding city, the once separate community retains it’s architectural and social identity, as well as one of the best – probably the best in my opinion – church in Lichfield. Unusually, the street lighting here is provided by very white metal halide lamps which give the streets an eerie atmosphere after nightfall. I love this place.

November 14th – Although Lichfield has lost many of it’s public houses, the rot doesn’t seem as bad in the city as elsewhere in the Midlands, possibly due to the tourist trade. There are many bars scattered about the centre, often with individual styles, quirks and features. I’ve never drank in the Horse and Jockey in Sandford Street, but it sure looks gorgeous at night.

November 14th – Lichfield Trent Valley railway station at night appears even more grim than it does in the day. The harsh lighting, surprisingly dark corners and hard, human-unfreindly surfaces make it oddly photogenic. I hate this station with a passion, and curse every time I carry my bike over that footbridge, but the metalwork and gas discharge lighting hold my attention at night. Dystopia or beauty? I can’t decide.

November 13th – An afternoon ride into Warwickshire through Tamworth. Hints, then down the A5 and canal to Polesworth, through Seckington and back via Clifton Campville, Harlaston and Whittington. Unlike my recent rides over Cannock Chase, the scenery was more varied. The day was quite dull and misty, however, and photography wasn’t great. A nice fifty miler, though, and a reminder that I should head out this way more often. Haven’t been to Orton on the Hill or Austrey for ages.

November 13th – Canwell Church. A beautiful, light stone design by Temple Moore, elegant in it’s plain simplicity – dedicated in 1911. Sat beautifully in a surprisingly quiet spot, just off the A38, for 80 years… Then some idiot wrecks it in the 1990’s by cursing it with that disease of  many churches in the Lichfield Diocese, a wholly unsuitable extension. Pelsall, Brownhills, Walsall Wood have all befallen this malaise. You’d think a landlord with so many historic, beautiful properties would understand aesthetics of architecture… whoever approved this should be ashamed of themselves.

November 12th – An exhilarating race along the dark canal footpath found me at The Black Cock bridge, overlooking the hamlet that was once known as Bullings Heath. Despite it’s isolated location, the Black Cock pub does a good trade and is a pleasant community local. I also think that this interestingly shaped pub looks great at night, particularly after rounding the bend on a dark, foreboding Green Lane.

November 12th – A short ride round Brownhills and over the common followed a day of work and fiddling. I’m certainly getting lots of practice with night photography – hopefully I’ll be cycling in daylight again sometime soon. Brownhills ‘marina’ – a few mooring points in a weed-strewn hardstanding – does look good at night. I hope it gets some love when the Tesco reconstruction show rolls into town – but I’m not optimistic.

November 11th – Another frustrating day of bad rail travel to Leicester. The day was also largely grim and overcast, but dry. Escaping work at 2pm, I didn’t get back to Lichfield until 4:30pm, when it was getting dark. A mooch round the city provided loads of great photo opportunities, but only a couple came out well. It’s been a truly rotten week for commuting, and finding photos to take has been hard, but rewarding. It really does bring brightness to often rather miserable days….

November 10th – An awful journey to work. It rained very heavily, and when I got to Lichfield Trent Valley station, my train was 30 minutes late, meaning I’d miss my connection and have to travel onwards to Leicester rather than South Wigston. Wet and miserable, my train finally arrived 45 minutes late, and I got to Leicester at about 9:30am, from where I had a lengthy journey by bike to my destination. By this time, the weather was clearing, and the sun trying to come out. I was in a unfamiliar city, and the cycling felt good. Perhaps it wasn’t all bad. The weak sun glistening off the wet roofs of Knighton made them unexpectedly precious. I arrived at work very late, but unexpectedly exhilarated – you can’t beat cycling.