January 24th – An awful image, snatched at dusk through a hedgerow at Newtown, Brownhills: four red deer females loafing and grazing in the field between the canal and Chase Road.
After years of seeing them around Brownhills, I’m still not over the frisson of noticing them: they feel so out of place and exotic, even though this is their home.
A lovely thing on an otherwise dull day.
July 5th – An odd day involving a fair few errands. I set out early afternoon, hoping to miss the rain. I didn’t.
I had to nip to Chasetown, and as ever, the High Street looked great, but the sky, even when sunny, was threatening and grey. I was caught out both on the outward journey, and on my return.
It was warm enough though, and bare legs dry quickly. Let’s hope next weekend is a little more temperate.
March 8th – St. Annes cemetery in CHasetown is looking gorgeous again. The crocuses here are always really, really breaking, although I think they need a few more days yet.
On a miserable, wet Sunday afternoon, they were just what the doctor ordered.
January 8th – Unexpectedly, Dazzle Ships on the Chasetown bypass. For those unfamiliar with either the concept of dazzle camouflage or the concept album by electronica band OMD, Dazzle Ships were regular ships painted in bright, geometrically random and almost cubist designs in the First and Second World Wars. Through a periscope, surrounded by light glinting off waves, it was a very effective scheme for obfuscating a vessel’s speed, heading and location.
The idea was pioneered by artist Normal Wilkinson. You can read about it here. The Dazzle Ships album is a lost classic, too.
At Chasetown, the camouflage was just shadow and sunlight through a steel bridge, but a fascinating series of contrasts caught just by looking right at the perfect moment.
January 12th – I had stuff to do in Burntwood at lunchtime, and returned late afternoon via Chasetown High Street. It was a squally, warm but rather wet day, and not a good one to be out; but once again I was reminded of just how busy Chasetown looks even at quiet times.
Chastown is not bigger, or particularly more economically vibrant than Brownhills; but the High Street here retained most of it’s original buildings, and the ratio of business premises to to dwellings at street level is about 50:50, which always makes the place look more occupied and buzzing than it really is.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again – a mix of retail, leisure and dwellings like this could well be the saviour of many dying High Streets – it makes them more welcoming by day, and after dark when the lights and reassuring presence of others makes the place seem warmer and less desolate.
Something to ponder on…
January 10th – On the way out, I caught a golden sunset over a very choppy Chasewater. It was the sort of metallic, harsh light that’s beautiful and only happens on windy, cold deep winter days.
On the way back, it was cold, and as I crossed the footbridge over the Chasetown Bypass, I was reminded of how beautiful nightfall was here. The distant, windy sweep of cars beneath my feet; countless lights stretching into the distance; the lights of Sutton Coldfield transmitter on the horizon, a constant, stable, reassuring reminder of the endless continuity of day-to-day life.
A beautiful but cold day to be out.
Boxing Day – Sometimes, you do something on impulse that seems a good idea, and it’s terrible. This was just such an occasion.
Snow was forecast. I enjoy snow; I love to be out in it, especially when it’s actually snowing; it saturates my senses and I feel connected to the world; I love the way it plays with the light, and the memory of place.
The snow came late afternoon, so I threw the studded snow tyres on the bike and went for it. The snow was very wet, but beautiful. The bike cam died due to not being charged. The mud on the canal was something else. Snow got on the camera lens and I had no dry cleaning materials to hand.
Then the snow turned to heavy rain. I had no aquapac for my electronic stuff.
I got soaked. Really wet. The rain was searching, and entered every not-quite shut zip and pocket flap. I felt cold, wet and down.
It had bean beautiful I was glad to catch it. I spun over to Chasewater, and was planning to loop over around Hammerwich. But the rain was just too horrid.
On my way back, I took the line of the old railway along the bypass at Chasetown, to the rear of Anglesey Basin, and saw the deer footprints in the fresh snow. I forgot being wet and cold and followed them – the animals had come up off the bypass, and headed over the scrub to the copse at the back of the cottages, presumably laying low for shelter. Bless them.
That perked me up, but oh boy, this was a horrid ride.
October 25th – I spotted them by chance as I shot down Church Street in Chasetown – the were on the mown grass in the little park next to the school. Four red deer ladies, out for their constitutional, and looking maybe for the odd carrot.
The were awfully tolerant and posed for me happily for ages. They’re clearly very used to people being around.
The look in good health, and fine condition. So good to see them after not seeing any for ages – they’re beautiful animals.
March 7th – After the despondency of the previous day, spring returned with a fresh passion today. I managed to escape work while the sun was still shining, and headed to Burntwood to pick something up. On the way back, in bright spring sunshine, I happened to glance through the gates of the cemetery opposite St, Anne’s Church. What I saw astonished me: the finest display of crocuses I have ever seen in my life. These are incredible when seen in person, and I commend any reader to go take a look. An astonishing, and beautiful thing.
Forget what I said yesterday: spring isn’t shaping up too badly right now…
February 17th – I had to be in Burntwood in the late afternoon for a meeting. After the spring of the day before, it was drizzly winter again, although the wind was still low. I quite like Burntwood, and more so Chasetown, although I’ve still yet to receive a funding offer for my planned remake of the chase scene from Bullit, on bicycles, down the sharply inclined High Street.
It occurred to me today why the place looks more prosperous than Brownhills – it’s the fact that a high percentage of buildings on the High Street are homes, not shops. Therefore, there’s a normal, bustling, lived-in atmosphere. It’s an interesting effect.
I love the Old Mining College, too. It’s long since abandoned it’s mining role, and is a community centre. Sadly, many of its services and staff are falling victim to budget cuts, which is a tragedy. It’s a wonderful thing, and well-loved by the community.
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