January 11th – Today didn’t work out so well. A failed trip at work, then a mad panic dash to get home. When I did, I hit the canal and headed up to Chasewater, as a decent sunset was threatening. At Anglesey Basin it was quiet, and deathly still. This is the kind of chilly weather I’ve been longing for; the air was clear and hard, but a shallow mist was forming over the canal. The only thing that caused ripples was the birdlife.
Peace, blessed peace. Just what you need after a chaotic day.
January 10th – I got the train back to Blake Street – I’m not really sure why. The disabled ramps there fascinate me – rather than being assembled, manufactured things, as the station is built on a hill, they’re just footpaths that meet the southerly ends of the platform. They’re at a fair incline, and have several dog leg bends in them. Shrouded by tress and shrubs, they are emerald green arcades on summer days, but dark, ethereal ginnels at night. I find the harsh lights, fencing and shadows fascinating.
At the bottom end tonight, however, a classic illustration of unthinking, selfish idiocy; several times this week I’ve come this way to see a bike-shaped object locked to the plastic down pipe at the foot of the ramp. It must belong to a commuter, and is blocking access to the ramp for people in wheelchairs and mobility scooters (there are a fair few who use this station). The staff have left a note attached to the bike. Odd really – there’s proper racks not ten yards away.
January 10th – I keep forgetting to take photos in Birmingham. I pass through it every day, and am still failing to look at it properly. The New Bullring and Selfridges are classic night photography shots; probably cliched by now – but I liked the angle from Moor Street; that the whole thing was viewed from a restored, beautiful Victorian railway station, with the camera tripod wound around genuine old railings. The steam engine – supplied by Tyseley Railway Museum is a nice touch, too, although the track it stands on isn’t connected to anything.
January 9th – I’d been working indoors all day, and ended up working late. I’d not seen the sky or daylight since 9:15am, so when I sped away from work at 8pm, I was shocked to find Birmingham wearing a low, thin mist. As I headed northwards home, the mist thickened, until, upon alighting the train at Shentone, I realised it was quite a serious fog. It was patchy, and in the country lanes through Stonnall, in places very dense indeed. I rode on my nerves, straining to look for headlights or unseen hazards, water vapour condensing in my hair and on my face.
Riding in heavy fog is hard work and uncomfortable. Hope it’s gone by morning…
January 9th – A beautiful morning, really, and although not very cold, after the warm weather of late it felt bitter. The sun shone, at least while I got to work – and everything had a gorgeous softness to it. In the light haze, the railway fascinated with its extended perspective and shine, and the row of terraces that back onto the junction by the station continue to fascinate in their recursion.
Even the Tyseley incinerator – working normally, as it does everyday – looked impressive; it’s water vapour, not usually visible, was forming plumes of steam in the cold air. Magical.
January 8th – It’s still very mild, and in the morning, I started out into a dull, overcast and hazy day, with a high mist that cloaked the top of the Sutton Coldfield TV transmitter masts. It didn’t bode well, and true to my expectation, the commute home was wet. Why do railway stations always look so dramatic in the night time rain? All those textured surfaces, I guess, and bright lights, I guess.
I think I’ve spent to long admiring stations in the rain, of late…
January 8th – The house that stands on the junction of Mill Lane and ForgeLane in Mill Green, Little Aston is still lying derelict, unloved and appears to be falling into ruin. This is a very large house in an exclusive, rural area. When occupied, it must have been worth at least £500,000, maybe more. I can’t even work out how such a property comes to be abandoned and left to vandals. This was once, clearly, a family home. Someone must own it, their must be a backstory. Nothing has changed here for years. Anyone know anything? It’s a crying shame.
January 7th – Talking of technology I’ve been interested to note of late that Birmingham Council – or rather, contractors working for them – are replacing street lighting on side routes with modern, low energy LED lights. I’ve been using LED lights on my bike for four or five years now, and they’ve improved massively. The lights being installed are an unexpected design, and seem to work really well. They give off a harsh, but clear white light. Interestingly tonight, when I left at 4:30, they were only just coming on, so the days are already lengthening considerably.
January 7th – Back in Birmingham, and after a long break it almost felt like coming home, if that makes sense. Nice to see nothing had changed; Tyseley Station maintains it’s gentle slide into decay, but touch wood, the trains have been better. I enjoyed the commute today, and an ongoing change from Vodafone to EE (Orange) for the phone contract seems to have solved the poor signal issues en route, particularly the Gravelly Hill dead spot. Fiddling with technology on my way, I noticed this older tech on my way through the station. I think it’s an old, very old, signal switch – possibly for train dispatch purposes. I’ve not seen anything like that for a while, and now clearly disconnected, wondered if the nearby rail museum might be interested…
January 6th – I have absolutely no idea what to make of this. Reader and top friend of the Brownhills Blog Rose Burnell had tipped me off the previous day that there was a CV pinned to a board outside the tyre sales place on Co-op corner in Brownhills. I checked it out, and she was quite right. I’m not sure the sign was thought out enough, but ten out of ten for optimism.
Sign of the times, or a brave punt for a new job in an increasingly hard world? I’ve no idea, but best of luck, my friend.
I wish you the very best of luck.
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