July 8th – Locked to railings outside Moor Street Station, Birmingham, Monday morning. A genuine antique delivery bike from Norwich. Rusty, barely roadworthy, but clearly well used and loved. There’s padding in the box for whatever is conveyed, and the shine on the oxidised crank suggests regular use. I’m utterly baffled.
July 7th – Passing through Polesworth I noticed this fine, but decaying building. Not a handsome edifice by any stretch, but impressive, foursquare and imposing all the same. The chimneys alone are gorgeous, never mind the finials, cupola and that incredible door. I had no idea what it was, other than a school, and made a note to find out when I got home.
It turns out it’s the former Nethersoles School, latterly a community centre, and now derelict, awaiting planning to turn it into apartments. The latin above the door – to my broken understanding – says ‘School for paupers and girls’ or similar.
It’s a remarkable thing, and so sad to see i falling to ruin. I hope something can be done with it soon.
July 7th – Oh my goodness, this is geeky. But it appeals to my sense of the absurd. This road sign on the ‘old’ A5 near Mile Oak isn’t unique, but it’s certainly rather unusual. What makes it so is not the restriction and advice it gives, but the accidental inclusion of the road number C0036. Just about every road in the UK has a number to the Ministry of Transport (or whatever it’s called these days) and to the local authority, but in theory, only the familiar A and B class roads are allowed to be marked on signage.
There are, actually, five classes of road – A through D, in order of major to minor, and U, meaning unclassified, even though they actually are. Maps for public consumption only use A&B, and the remaining numbers are intended for administrative use only, but occasionally, in cases such as this, due to CAD or administrative errors, a C or D number will creep on to a sign.
This one has been in place since the bypass was built, a good few years ago now, and always raises a wry smile.
July 6th – back to Brownhills in a scorching, still, languid golden hour. By some trick of the light, the High Street looks busy, and beautiful. The canal rendered gorgeous in the sunset.
I’ve waited a long time for this. Long may it continue.
July 6th – I was really pleased yesterday to note that Chasewater’s mini beach, at the northern end of the dam, was back in use after so many years dry. This sand spot on the shore has been like visiting the seaside on sunny days for local kids for generations. It’s nice to know that if Barmouth or Rhyl are too far to go, there’s a little bit of beach life close by.
Beautiful.
July 5th – I keep passing this graffiti on the canal side at Wolverhampton. I don’t know what they were thinking, or why. For some reason, it always makes me smile.
July 5th – A glorious, sunny and hot exploration of Ironbridge, followed by a wonderful ride home.
How, exactly, does one raise a pork pie? Is it like raising kids?
It’s right what they say about road cyclists eating pies, then… nice bike, though.
July 4th – I returned to Walsall during a glorious golden hour. The town was largely deserted, and I cycled through an empty marketplace. St. Matthews, up on the hill, looked as imperious as ever, but despite the demolition of the hated Overstrand, the view of the grand old lady of Walsall is still wrecked by far inferior architecture. But get close, and she still beguiles…
July 4th – In Birmingham in the early sunny evening. The city was at ease with itself. In the warmth, folk milled around languidly, and many hung out on the grass in the grounds of St. Philip’s Cathedral, affectionately know as ‘pigeon park’ to kids or a certain generation. People sunbathed, read, chatted and just relaxed.
I love seeing the city like this.
July 3rd – Bird’s Foot Trefoil – which previously I’ve erroneously referred to as Vetch, sorry – is a beautiful plant. As kids, we used to call it ‘egg and bacon’ due to the crimson and egg-yolk colours. It’s growing in abundance around the canals and meadows of the area, and here near the new pond at Clayhanger. The delicate little flowers keep the bees buzzing, and are a constant delight.
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