Tag: Darlaston

November 9th – Whilst at the war memorial, I spotted a bit of an anachronism outside the Post Office in Darlaston – this really reminded me of the heady days of the early internet revolution.

This red K6 phonebox has a banner sticker at the top pointing out you could once email and text from the phone there. I believe that was a late 90s/early 2000s thing and required a special phone to be installed in the phone booth with a qwerty keyboard – but I could be wrong. 

However it worked, I doubt theres a use for such things today with the rise of the smartphone – and I don’t know about you, but the very sight of someone using a phonebox these days looks a bit… shifty. 

How fast times have changed from ‘Press button A’!

November 9th – In my opinion few war memorials, if any, can match that in Darlaston for sheer beauty and reverence. I’ve never seen such a loving, respectful and intimate civic sculpture and garden as this.

It needs the paths resurfacing, but it’s a peaceful spot that’s well tended and tidy, even in the midst of the autumn leaf deluge, and will see on Sunday people come from far and wide to remember the fallen and pay their respects.

I love the poppy bench and the garden for the blind with the braille and active plant labels.

We shall remember them.

November 8th – And further on, at the top end of Victoria Park, the trees look absolutely beautify now they’re shedding their leaves. Riding up around the park, it was good to see the guys from the council tidying and sprucing up the war memorial for Remembrance Sunday.

The day in prospect was making me heavy-hearted but with such a lovely start, it couldn’t be a bad day on the whole.

November 8th – In and out of work early as I had a medical thing to get sorted, but needed to sign some paperwork. In total contrast to the day before, it was sunny, and with the sun on the back, a pleasing hint of a summer now passed.

Station Street in Darlaston is always interesting when the sun shines on it: usually in shadow from the tall, ageing factories, it really does demonstrate the sunny side of the street.

I was in the shade today, but it would be brighter, later.

November 7th – Long, long before the wonderful John Cooper Clarke was a sort of cult national treasure doing voice overs for oven chip adverts, he observed the everyday diesel spill on wet tarmac and made it chilling.

‘Revenge is not enough
There’s a dead canary on a swivel seat
There’s a rainbow in the road
Meanwhile on Beasley Street
Silence is the code’

I find easy, cheesy, greasy, queasy, beastly Beasley Street still chilling and an absolute classic, and after hearing it 30 odd years ago, I never looked at the urban terrace street in the same way again – including oil slicks flowing down the Darlaston Road and catching the light.

John Cooper Clark is one of the best performance poets Britain has ever had.

November 6th – The shrooms are multiplying!

A few weeks ago I spotted a single toadstool, chainsaw-carved from a log near the old Charles Richard Imperial works in Darlaston Green, where that interesting ex-military truck is always parked. There is a trestle there, and logs, so it seems the trucker is cutting winter fuel there (although there’s no sawdust, oddly).

I presume the artist is carving the toadstools at the same time – and they are beautifully executed. Now multiplying, I wonder if there will be a clump form?

November 2nd – Further on my way to work, I caught something out of the corner of my eye n a patch of roadside verge grass. On the neatly mown turf were lots of one of my favourite toadstools – the delicate and very short lived Japanese Parasol. With a delicate crinkled cap no larger than a two pound coin and a very slight stature, these pretty little fungi will be gone without trace within a day.

These are a wonderfully fragile, transient beauty and I’m so glad to have seen them this year.

October 31st – Passing down the Darlaston Road to Wednesbury over Kings Hill, you realise that the area is changing. While it’s still very industrial, a couple of the old, large factories here have been replaced by new build housing.

The old Exidoor factory that made panic bolts was lost to apartments some years ago, and over the last couple of years, a pleasant enough, but unremarkable estate has grown on the site of the former Servis domestic appliance factory pretty much next door.

Servis was a household name, started by nearby power press manufacturer Wilkins and Mitchell who are also now gone; they made passable washing machines and the like which were functional, and often very innovative (The Servis Quartz was the first ever electronically controlled automatic washing machine) but suffered from poor quality and reliability.

Gradually outsold and outclassed by competitors due to the traditional British twin failures of lack of investment and corner cutting, Servis fell from UK ownership to various international owners before finally collapsing.

The works, which once even had it’s own brass band, fell silent, was demolished, the ground reclaimed, and now houses sprout from where the ground once shook under the blow of heavy presses. 

Such is the story across modern Britain. We are in the middle of great change.

October 30th – On my return, I popped into Kings Hill Park since it was such a beautiful afternoon. There was nobody around, peace reigned – apart from the normal industrial sounds of Darlaston living and breathing, which is a sort of background music to me now – and the only activity was from Mrs. Squirrel here, checking me out for food.

Sore from the hospital and feeling weary after the ride, I sat and thought, had a snack and something to drink, and gently recharged in my nowhere garden.

The park looks even better in it’s current cloak of autumn, with beautiful flowers still in bloom and the leaves turning so prettily.

This is one of the gems of the Black Country, yet what tour guide ever mentions Kings Hill Park? What guidebook ever dared to breathe the name?

This is just our peaceful, beautiful secret. And I love it so.