July 14th – I returned home via the Goscote Valley cycle route, Pelsall, and Ryders Mere. Ryders Mere really is gorgeous right now, a lovely pool surrounded by the most delightful meadows. Wildflowers are here in abundance, everything from orchids to clovers, vetches to hawkweeds. It’s a thoroughly delightful place. 

Now I’ve seen it from afar, I’m even less liking the paint job on Humphries House. Oh dear.

July 14th – A grey afternoon in Walsall. I realised at 1:30 that I had a package to collect from the central Post Office in Walsall. Taking a chance, I decided to make a dash for it. Grabbing the bike, I left at 1:35 (the office shuts at 2pm) – I was locking my bike up outside the sorting office a 1:50pm. That’s why I ride a bike.

Parcel collected, I decided to check out a new coffee shop I was hearing good things about – @coffeecomforts, in the old Tandy store underneath Tameway Tower on Bridge Street. Sadly, at 2:10pm on a Saturday, it was shut. So much for that, then…

I took mediocre tea in Costas, then explored the backstreets for a while, before heading through Caldmore, to pick up indian snacks for the week ahead at my favourite sweet centre, Harguns. On the way, I noted that the old Guildhall Mews, in Goodall Street, was quietly decaying. I remember when this was open as little shops, and you ould walk right in, around 1990. There was a CD audio specialist at the back called CDX. I don’t know how long it’s been shut, but the plant life is having a ball.

The BOAK building is still cowering, trying to look inconspicuous to the municipal arsonists, who recently torched another derelict building nearby. It’s a handsome place, and something really should be done with it. 

My eye was also caught by the White Hart, on Caldmore Green; one of the oldest buildings in Walsall I believe, and a shining example of what can be done to preserve heritage. Still can’t warm to the building though, knowing they found a petrified severed arm in the chimney. Ugh. It’s in Walsall Museum, and dubbed ‘The Hand of Glory’.

July 13th – This is just a wee reminder about how poor rubbish services are for some folk. The people here, between Four Oaks and Little Aston, live in one of the poshest, most exclusive areas of Birmingham. Sadly, refuse services in the Second City are still third rate; no wheelie bins here. For whatever reason, these bags of waste – recycling and general trash – have been missed and will lie here for another week.

Next time you hear someone grumbling about Walsall or Lichfield’s bin service, reflect on this.

July 12th – there seem to be a lot of traffic surveys going on in South Staffordshire at the moment. Lots of back lanes seem to have the familiar rubber pickups nailed to the asphalt, just like this one in Gravelley Lane, between Shenstone and Stonnall. These devices count vehicles, and many modern ones take a punt at guessing what yore driving. The black cables are actually flexible, soft pipes, sealed at one end (usually by tying it in a simple knot). Any vehicle tyre running over the pipe causes the air pressure to rise within, and activates a pressure switch in the counter. By analysing the number of pulses and distance apart in time, many units can now tell the difference between HGV’s passing and normal cars. This device is probably installed for a routine traffic survey, and will soon be moved to a different spot. Surveys like this are regularly taken by councils.

July 12th – Station to station on seemingly different days. I left for work this morning – again, I was in southeast Birmingham – in bright sunshine, with clear blue skies. I took my jumper off, enjoyed the breeze and the traffic. The view of the Bull Ring from Moor Street was particularly wonderful – so many architectural styles in one view. Sadly, on my return at 8:30pm, the day had turned nasty. Short heavy showers, separated by steady drizzle. Shenstone station looked as handsome as ever, but the weather was a real pain. Why do I seem to keep scaring summer off?

July 11th – After days of moaning about the rain, as I commuted home late this afternoon, the sun came out. This was so joyous to me that I cruised around the lanes of Shenstone for a while, dawning in the warmth, taking in the colours of nature around me. It had been an odd morning commute – I set out in purring rain, but got to the station in sunshine. I’ve been very down about the lack of summer in recent days, and the relentless grind of getting wet nearly every day has taken it’s toll on my mood. This ride, however, was restorative. Blue skies, light fluffy clouds and a gorgeous light. The wheat looked healthy, and the hedgerows and lane margins bristled with life. Excellent. 

July 11th – Acocks Green. I’ve discovered that taking the train to here, rather than Tyseley, rewards me with a nicer ride to my destination. Tyseley is very, very industrial, yet bordering it is a perfect, interwar Metroland of Victorian and Art Deco townhouses, on wooded, somnambulant streets. There is great, but modest architecture in these backways, and little traffic. The sun came through this morning, and lit the whole thing up – it felt like I was in an episode of Mr. Ben, or possibly ‘Keep the Aspidistra Flying’ – I couldn’t make my mind up which was more applicable. A lovely place. I think I’m in love.