November 2nd – I was pleased to note this year that the re will be a remembrance service on Moor Street Station, Birmingham. There is a war memorial on the concourse here to the fallen railwaymen of the Great Western Railway, spanning two wars. Tucked into a corner, the memorial was restored in 2003 upon the reopening of the old station. A sombre and beautiful thing.

November 2nd – I mentioned last week that the modern Little Aston – location of exclusive private hospital and old folks home, as well as being millionaires square mile – still shows some evidence of being a village of some antiquity. There is, however, a bit of a conundrum. Where Forge Lane crosses the Footherley Brook, adjacent to Forge Wood, there’s a peculiar kink in the lane over a hump bridge. This treacherous hairpin is overlooked by a row of homes called Forge Cottages. Yet further down towards where the main body of the village stood, opposite the primary school is another old forge, still standing, although now occupied by a design studio. I guess both must have been home to blacksmiths.

This is a lovely little village you look past the modern developments.

November 1st – I’m experimenting with long exposure settings on the camera. I did a little last year, but largely left the shutter and aperture to the camera. I’m beginning to get a feel for how there settings work now. 

I’m not a huge fan of the Walsall Wood Pithead sculpture as many will be aware. I resent the poor engineering and tokenism of it, and the shallowness such artworks always engender. But it does make an interesting subject at night. It’s interesting when it catches the floodlight from the football pitch nearby, it almost appears to be lit from below.

November 1st – Tyseley, the gift that keeps on giving. Yes, I know, two days running. The sunset was dramatic tonight, and it was nearing perfection as I crossed the bridge to enter the station. On the platform, the sunset behind Greet church was far more vibrant than it had been the day before. Autumn, and it’s ever-changing moods. After a thoroughly miserable, wet commute to work in the morning, this evening’s fiery beauty was a tonic. It felt very chilly, though.

A note wings it’s way here from Trev in Australia. Trev, as regular readers will recall, is a Walsall Wood ex-pat.

Hi Bob

I am Trevor in Australia who you did those wonderful videos for, As I know that you are interested in all things nature I thought you might enjoy these photos that I took in Christchurch New Zealand.

I hope that you can see what i am trying to show you as I took the photos through a dirty camper van window. A white Sparrow with some common ones, Have you or perhaps our friends on the blog ever seen one,

Cheers Bob from Trevor,

Ps Bob your Blog is so good for me Thanks Mate

Cheers for the note and pictures, Trev. Glad you enjoy it. I’ve never seen a white sparrow before. Is it a species local to New Zealand, or is it a genetic oddity? Fascinating.

Hope you’re feeling better, old chap. I’m so pleased that you’re feeling a connection to The Wood through my work.

Best wishes

Bob

October 31st – I came back to Walsall as the Cross City was broken again, and it at least meant the wind would be at my back. The ride was as bad as I expected; people were driving like morons and the road conditions were dreadful. Still, I had good waterproofs on, and it was just a matter of mashing away until I got home. The arboretum Junction was spray-central: I don’t know what it is with the asphalt here, but it retains a layer of water that just doesn’t dissipate, resulting in a permanent traffic haze while it rains.

Winter. It came so quickly…

October 31st – A grim commute home. The scent of rain had been in the air all day, and in the afternoon, the showers grew more frequent and intense. At Tyseley, I listened to the rain on the roof with a heavy heart. I don’t mind commuting jun the rain too much, but there was a keen wind and with the dark evenings upon us, enjoyment was likely to be thin on the ground.

Having missed my train, I waited at a near deserted Tyseley station for the next service. It was dry, but dingy and darkness was falling. This odd little place really has got a hold on me. I’m fascinated by the dark decay of the station, it’s unexplained wooden screens (seemingly doubling as urinals these days) and mock-victorian fittings. It’s quite the oddest station I’ve used; it should feel desolate and threatening, but doesn’t. I can’t work out why it’s fascinating me so much.

October 30th – An odd day. I was in Kings Hill, between Darlaston and Wednesbury, and I had to nip to Tyseley. I figured the quickest way was to hop on the canal and cycle to Galton Bridge, where I could hop on the train. It was a nice, peaceful yet quick ride and I enjoyed it immensely. The waterways were quiet, and very autumnal. The only sound that disturbed me was the thud of a half-term holiday boat hirer crashing his craft through the narrows at Pudding Green…

October 29th – The day had been better, weather-wise; it was milder, and the rain had mostly stopped. The day had that never-quite-light feel about it, though, and the sunset at 4:45pm was ominous. Looking towards the city from Tyseley Station, central Birimingham seemed close enough to walk, but the railway signals strung out in an undulating line following the course of the track told a different story. I love that view, for all all it’s faults. Brum, you’re a rough dame but I wouldn’t be without you.