Tag: Brownhills

December 13th – I lost a good friend today. It was a cracking morning ride – I had begun to think over the summer that Britain’s weather had forgotten how to make the country look good, but in the last few days – and this morning particularly – I realised that it’s just been dormant, resting, hopefully for a grand performance to come. It was cold, and black ice lurked in hollows, gutters and on bends, but riding was fast and the sky gorgeous in the late winter sunrise. I took loads of pictures, then made late by my fascination, I hurried to work. Coming up the steps at Tyseley, I performed a bounce-test on my trusty Panasonic camera, which was inadvertently hooked out of my pocket with my gloves. The little wonder was no match for the steps, and the case broke and the internal optics were shattered. Since this time last year when it was new it’s taken about 14,000 pictures, so it really doesn’t owe me anything. With a heavy heart, I ordered another. 

Must be more careful in future…

December 9th – I remain fascinated by deserted urban spaces at night. This small parade of shops stands just off the A5 Watling street at Brownhills, and was built to serve the housing estates that sprung up there in the postwar period. It is fair to say that its had ups and downs, and more than its fair share of transitory tenants. I find the design odd; there’s little parking nearby, and the curious fall from the road level makes it seem almost subterranean. When I passed tonight there didn’t seem to be a soul around, and I think, in an odd kind of way, it was quite haunting.

December 9th – Brownhills still has some good pubs, even if they are somewhat thinner on the ground than they used to be. At the one end of the scale, there’s the large, family chain pub as exemplified by the Hussey Arms, Smithy’s Forge and Crown. At the other end, there are still a few traditional back-street boozers, like The Prince of Wales. On a dark, cold Sunday night in december, they all look very bright and welcoming…

December 8th – Brownhills isn’t beautiful by any stretch of the imagination, but it can be rather striking, particularly at night. I’ve always been fascinated by the view from the Pier Street Bridge of the canal at night. There’s something about the combination of lights and water that’s rather wonderful. The whole area of the bridge is quite enchanting in the darkness. It’s proof that even the most unprepossessing area can be strikingly beautiful when you least expect it.

December 8th – I was stuck in doing paperwork most of the day, but skipped out late to do some shopping and take the air. Stopping at the dreaded Tesco in Brownhills for my fix of posh doughnuts, I noted I wasn’t the only occupant of the bike rack. There was a rather fine Mongoose hybrid parked up, with traditional Caradice long flap saddlebag and a rather splendid Brooks B33 fully sprung saddle. Man, that thing is the equivalent of a sofa. That really is being kind to your bum. Whoever owns this steed is very fond of it and loves traditional British cycling gear. And to whoever they are, I doff my hat… Chapeau, sir!

December 2nd – As I cycled down the bank and onto Apex Road, I noticed the council depot was silent. The roads had clearly already been gritted today, and there didn’t seem to be anyone about. The depot here is where all the gritting operations now take place from, and there’s a huge shelter here full of road salt. Walsall are generally very good at gritting the roads, and getting pebble dashed on the way home from work is now a nightly risk. The amount of machinery stored here to process and spread the deicer is startling, and makes you realise just what a huge operation this seemingly simple task actually is.

December 2nd – I was still knackered from the past few days, and couldn’t raise the wherewithal to get out until after dark. When I did, by jove, was it parky. There was a thickening ground frost, but it was still and the bike went quickly. I spun out to the common and headed down the old railway line in the darkness. On the way, I startled a group of red deer does who were stomping and snorting together for warmth on the shelter of the cycle track; my light picked our the vapour of their breath as they fled down the embankment. On the old cement works bridge, it was silent, and over the factory yards and forgotten corners of Apex Road and the industrial estates nearby it was also eerily quiet. Looping back through Clayhanger, the night was dark, but the lights where on at the chapel and it looked great over the fields. After what seems like the longest autumn ever, it’s now cold, clear, crystal winter. This is more like it…

November 25th – A curious thing has happened at Anchor Bridge in Brownhills. There used to be a gas pipe running along the front of the bridge – it was cast iron, and painted black. When I was a kid, climbing it was  a challenge and a rite of passage. Yesterday, scaffold was erected at either end of the 300mm diameter pipe; today, it had been removed and the ends capped. I wonder why it’s become redundant?

November 17th – A trying day, for various reasons, but a rather good sunset. I’d been busy all day and hit home as darkness fell, before shooting out again. A day when I really couldn’t catch my breath, when it was suddenly taken by the sunset over the canal at Catshill Junction. A harbinger of a cold night, it was beautiful, and I wished I’d see more of it. Ah well, there’s always tomorrow…

November 16th – A little further on stands the ghost of the Catshill Flour Mill. Now converted into pleasant flats, this imposing, foursquare building once milled the flour for the bread of the town, before being converted into a factory making metal components. Repurposed 20 years ago, the mill still stands imposingly over a largely limpid and quiet canal. Oh, the tales it could tell…