August 9th – I was pleased to note that someone has taken it upon themselves to paint and restore the old milepost at the top of the Black Path on the Watling Street in Brownhills. The sign, which is quite old, has been broken the way it is for as long as I can remember, but it’s nice to see it white with the remaining test picked out in black. I have no idea why it was erected here, or who by; it’s not in the common local style. I’m also curious as to why it says ‘Rugeley’ at the base, a detail I’d never previously noticed.

It would be nice if it could be restored to it’s original condition. I wonder what the blank arm said?

August 8th – I’m intrigued by one of the less publicised additions to the skyline of Brownhills brought about by the refurbishment of Humphries House, Brownhills’ tallest building. I noted some time ago the addition of what I thought were winches for access cradles, mounted on the roof above the major vertexes of the block. It turns out that they aren’t winches or hoists at all, but Domehawk CCTV cameras. I owner who monitors them, how far their field of view reaches and under whose auspices they’re installed?

August 8th – A long, long day. Out as dusk fell, I cycled around Brownhills, fighting low energy reserves and an aching back. Looking for a decent sunset, I cycled over the rite by Catshill Junction, to look over Clayhanger Common. Alone, apart from the odd dog walker, I reflected on this place; 35 years ago the spot I was stood in was a 20 feet deep ditch, and before me would have been piles of (often burning) festering refuse. This beautiful, treed-lined landscape – replete with rabbits, deer and all manner of birds – is testament to how landscape can be reclaimed, restored and rehabilitated if there exists the vision, will and determination.

August 7th _ I spotted this strutting juvenile heron on the Tame Valley Canal at Hamstead, Birmingham, on a sunny afternoon. Displaying a good bit more bombast than most herons, he wasn’t scared of me and performed wonderfully on the opposite bank, stalking, preening and strolling.

I love herons. They always look like eccentric old men; dishevelled, preoccupied and slightly mad.

August 7th – There is a destructive force in our midst, reducing brickwork to rubble and invading any scrap of greenspace. Alien? Hardly. It’s buddleia  – an invasive shrub that infests the hinterlands, margins and rooftops of urban areas. Able to grow in the most precarious of situations, an accumulation of soot and grime in a brickwork fissure is all it takes to grow. Once taken hold, it’s very hard to eradicate, and the power of the roots to split apart man-made masonry cannot be overestimated.

This time of year, it’s in full, glorious purple flower. A joy to behold, unlike the damage it causes. 

August 6th – I’d been in Darlaston, and returned home via the cycleway down the Goscote Valley. Despite small areas of tipping and litter, it’s lovely at the moment; the pastures and wastelands are bright with willow herb, wort, convulvulus and budleia, and the Ford Brook has tall swathes of Himalayan balsam growing tall. It’s an unwelcome species, but it is gorgeous to look at.

All the way through Goscote I watched two buzzards wheel and soar on the warm breeze. You wouldn’t think this area could be so peaceful and beautiful.

Walsall still has the capacity to surprise.