March 17th – Maybe it’s some chemical in the water, or the heavy urban atmosphere, but a strain of really huge swans have started breeding in Walsall Arboretum pool. 

It’s been a long time since we had boating on Hatherton Lake; tragedies and expense seemed to finish it for good – but a private operator has tendered to operate these cute pedaloes – and why not?

Users will have life jackets, and a whale of a time I’m sure. A great idea. Just watch out for Brer Alligator, and of course, the famous Plastic Hippo who dwells grumpily in the deep.

I could actually be persuaded off my bike if someone could fit one of these things with an engine. I could cruise about town, in a flying hat and goggles. 

Stately, indeed.

Perhaps they should try it with the Mayor first – I can really see it suiting Smithy’s style – and we could flog the new jag. Win-win.

March 16th – The old Effluent Disposal/Leigh Environmental/Sarp/Veolia site in Walsall Wood, itself formerly the Walsall Wood Colliery remains empty, but secure. This once controversial plant, where huge quantities of industrial waste were poured into a former mineshaft deep under Walsall Wood, was often the seen of protest and trouble, then when dumping stopped here, it was laboratories and main offices. The plant flipped between a few companies over the years, and the last one – Veolia – moved to larger, new build premises a few years ago in Cannock.

The site is very secure, with caretakers living on site, and seems to be just quietly decaying.

There was talk of a food company buying these premises and moving production here, but I think they must have realised the former use probably wasn’t conducive to good customer feeling, and the place is still like a set from Day of the Triffids.

I would imagine this plant will be quite hard to sell.

February16th – I passed St. Johns Church, in Walsall Wood, early afternoon, and a bright flash caught my eye as I passed. Doubling back, I saw the sign was a QR code.

For goodness sakes.

I’m not a fan of QR codes; by the time you’ve downloaded an app, fiddled around scanning the code and waited for it to decode, you could just go to the site from a printed, simple web address.

Predictably, this piece of obfuscating technological flapdoodle leads to this website, so there’s no need to scan it yourselves…

March 15th – To compound a bad ride, I had to go up to Walsall Wood, and my beer magnet was at full power. Excellent, you might think. Fourteen reds in a loose group, on the field margin along the canal that borders Grange Farm, Walsall Wood. Largest group I’d seen for a while, and there were some impressive specimens.

Just one snag: there was a thin scrub-copse and barbed wire fence stopping me getting through the trees to get good photos. Immensely frustrating.

Aaargh!

March 15th – The sunset the previous evening that promised so much failed to deliver anything but grey murk the next day. It was overcast, grey, cold and windy, and while I was out and about mid afternoon, it rained. I hate days like this, particularly so close to spring. You feel almost cheated.

I span round Chasewater, and noted the waterfowl now seem to have claimed the castle as their own, but was troubled that I could only spot one of the three white geese. Hope the other two are OK, but they must be quite old now.

On the other hand, last years cygnets are all doing well on the big pool, and accumulated, must number more than 30. With few natural predators and national treasure status, one wonders how long their population can go on expanding…

The water level seems to be increasing gradually, too; maybe 11 inches to go now. I somehow doubt we’ll see Chasewater overflow this spring, but it’s at a good healthy level right now.

March 14th – after a grey, murky day, a remarkably clear sunset over Aldershawe Hill and Springhill as I rode home from Lichfield down the backlanes. We’re entering now the spring period of great sundowns, and this one was gorgeous. I’m really loving this new camera, which really seems to perform much better in low light.

A great ride.

March 14th – Where do you leave a pair of bikes when you’re exploring a lost Mall? Well, loads of railings and street furniture nearby…

Cue rant.

Birmingham is a lousy city to cycle around at street level. For decades, the City Council have paid lip service to cycling, with a road system that routinely ignores the needs of more vulnerable road users, like Moor Street Queensway. They were given millions in cycle funding, which they used to resurface miles of perfectly good canal towpath.

And then, there’s aresehattery of this calibre. No cyclist would ever have managed this. I guaran-damn-tee the person responsible for this act of civic idiocy last rode a bike in school.

What am I upset about?

Cyclehoops are the round fittings bolted to these railings. They are great items of cheap street furniture designed to be fixed to existing street furniture to provide anchor points for bike parking. We have some in Walsall on lampposts. They’re brilliant because they stop your steed flopping around the post, and provide a secure lock rail that’s hard to remove.

Oddly enough, railings already provide that feature.

Birmingham City Council bought a bunch of Cyclehoops and instead of fitting them in places where they would be useful, bolted them to railings that already perform the purpose Cyclehoops fulfil.

You normally have to make an appointment for this kind of idiocy.

Stick a fork in the Council’s backside and turn it over, it’s done.

March 13th – This is about a death, or being present at the demise. 

I was in Birmingham for the afternoon, and had an important execution to record.

Fletchers Walk, the dingy, misconceived subway-mall near the Town Hall in Birmingham, leading under Paradise Circus and emerging at the foot of Alpha Tower, will soon be lost to the wrecking ball.

It is ugly. Badly designed. It represents some of the worst – very worst -aspects of modernism, utilitarian urbanism and brutalism. It is unattractive, badly lit, intimidating and dystopian.

I’ve always loved it.

In the 80s and 90s, there was a great record shop down there, one of Brum’s earliest computer shops, too. Some great restaurants. When it was alive, it was a curious, odd netherworld. I’d bet many Brummies never knew it existed. It often stank of sewage, or stale urine. 

Attempts to polish this architectural turd only succeeded in compounding the issue – that being it was impossible to build something like this properly in the space available.

Soon, it will be swept away, along with John Madin’s remarkable library on top, and replaced by a bland, steel and glass corporate space, which we will facelessly and safely drift through, like the insipid figures on developer’s pictures. 

We will be unchallenged as we do so – the architecture will not engage, neither will it be evident. There will be none of the apprehension. It’ll just be another glossy, transitory and irrelevant link between retail spaces.

That will never by my Birmingham. Fletchers Walk – with it’s memories of great nights out, obscure music finds and hurried dashes from grim menace – is my Birmingham. 

When it dies, a bit of my memory will die with it.

March 12th – I revised some old haunts tonight to try out the new camera on some familiar night shots. I’m astounded with the improvement in image quality of the TZ70 over the TZ60; the shots are far sharper and less noisy than I’m used to getting. Even the flats on the Watermead by Coopers Bridge are well defined and sharp.

They really let the unexpected beauty of Brownhills at night shine through.