March 10th – The light held over the lanes as I headed for home – not a great sunset, but a good one, nonetheless. The lanes were eerie and quiet, and contrary to my expectations, it seems Keepers Cottage at Footherly remains. I had expected it to be demolished, as had the derelict cottages further down the lane; however, time and the elements seem to be doing the job instead.
A lovely, spooky commute home.
February 11th – I can’t beat about the bush here: it was a bloody horrible weekend weather-wise and my disposition wasn’t sunny as a result, either. All the spring of the previous weekend had evaporated and I was left with cold, freezing rain, sleet and a strong wind.
I had to get shopping and run errands. I had to get out. I went to Brownhills, and it did, to be fair, lighten my mood but the photography was dreadful. But there couldn’t have been a better afternoon to consider Ravens Court, the crumbling, derelict shopping centre whose private owners couldn’t give a toss for.
This foreboding, grim vandal-magnet seems beyond the powers of anyone, including the local authority (and lord knows, they’ve tried) to be sorted once and for all. The people with the power – the owners who are a land-banking company based in Mayfair, London – couldn’t be less bothered.
This place blights our town, is a cause for derision, prevents new investment and stands testament to the abject failure of governments to tame the worst aspects of speculative property capitalism.
It was raining in Ravens Court; but surveying this desolation, the rain in my heart was torrential.
February 4th – Out for a good ride to Middleton and Tamworth on a sunny, bright but cold afternoon. I shot through Footherley against the wind, but as I came through the hamlet itself, I stopped and did a double take.
The old terraced cottages here – which had been derelict as long as I’ve been cycling these lanes, so near enough 40 years at least – have finally been demolished, and nothing now remains.
I’m not really sad for their loss – they were unremarkable in themselves historically and architecturally – but they were a landmark, and I’ll miss the marker they provided.
I wonder – can Keepers Cottage, the house similarly derelict near the brook, back towards Lower Stonnall – be long for the world? I think not.
January 15th – Intrigued to note that the former Terrace restaurant on the Watling Street at Newtown, in the hinterlands of Brownhills seems finally to be undergoing renovation of some kind.
Following it’s closure 18 months ago, this once very popular venue has been plagued by vandalism, metal thieves and arson, and rumours in the spring of it being host to a new buffet restaurant seemed to come to nothing.
Taking a nose today, new fencing is going up, and the fittings seem to be being cleared out. A licensing application for alcohol dating from July is on a nearby lamp-post.
I hope something does open at this landmark building. Brownhills could do with a decent restaurant.
January 10th – It seems the old Oak Park is finally coming down – after a sizeable fire in the derelict building last week, the council have at last acted decisively and it seems we will soon be rid of the old building and the antisocial behaviour it’s encouraging.
Built in 1974, it’s a bland, post Brutalist structure in pale block, but like many, I have memories here, and although we have a great new centre not 100 yards away, the change is tinged with just a little sadness.
It’ll be interesting to watch the building come down.
September 19th – Freewheeling down Shire Oak Hill into Brownhills, I stopped to look at the sad hulk of the Rosa – or ‘Middle’ Oak, closed a couple of years ago, and once a popular, award-winning pub. Sold privately, no planning applications have ever been submitted for another use, and the building continues to fall quite into decay. The only use it sees these days if neighbours using the car park.
Nobody seems to know what, if anything, the owners have planned.
A sad end to a once fine community pub.
September 9th – In Aston, a sad sight; a pub that I once frequented regularly has closed. Beautiful in that hideously overblown way only Birmingham terracotta pubs can be, the Swan and Mitre on the corner of Holborn Hill was never salubrious, but it was a good boozer that contains many happy memories.
It’s a genuinely astounding building, but sadly the reputation this place carried and decline of nearby industry signed it’s death warrant many years ago.
Like the Brittania, nearby (now converted into a cafe) there seems little place in modern suburban Birmingham for the huge alehouses of yore, which is a great pity.
Never again will I lean on the railings outside on a warm evening, pint in hand, watching the world go by. But then, those days passed a long, long time ago, and the faces that filled those memories have moved on, slipped away or faded out of mind.
Except one.
I just hope the building can be repurposed.
August 12th – Escape in the afternoon for a 72 mile ride around the top of Burton and back via Melbourne – a fine ride, but the southwesterly on my return was punishing.
Up through Lichfield and Barton, a great stop for tea and cake, then up through Shobnall to Willington, where I note the disused cooling towers are finally due for demolition. Over the Swarkestone Bridge to Melbourne, then back through Woodvellie and Lullington.
At least I found out what bored farmers do for entertainment…
I really enjoyed the ride, but I do hope the wind clears off soon.
August 2nd – Another summer soldier that looks superb in rain is the dog rose. Still flowering well and looking gorgeous, like the willow herb they line the paths, tracks, verges and edgelands of town and country, and I think few people really notice them.
Which is sad, because as these in Darlaston show – growing outside a disused factory – they really are beautiful.
So many unsung heroes amongst the wayside flowers.
July 20th – People seem to think I’m negative about buddleia, but I’m not really. It’s a beautiful purple shrub that lights up late summer wonderfully, and it’s not known as the butterfly bush for nothing – the Lepidoptera love the huge flowerhead composed of tiny, individual blooms.
My problem with this plant – if it’s a problem at all – is that for me, it’s a harbinger of urban decay. It’s so successful in urban environments that it’ll grow well in a patch of soot in vertical brickwork. At this time of year, throughout the urban expanses of the UK you can see buddleia sprouting and flowering from derelict buildings, bridges and rail lines. Seemingly one of the first signs that nobody cares for a place anymore is that it starts flowering in purple at high summer.
You can’t blame the plant for that…
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