Tag: Digbeth

#365daysofbiking Off the wall

February 19th – I don’t find myself in Digbeth much these days, but on my return from Sparkhill I had a quick spin around the Custard Factory and creative quarter to admire the street art and giggle at the hipsters.

When the Custard Factory opened as an arts Centre in the 90s it had a very slow start, but over the subsequent three decades it’s developed an inertia and community of it’s own, with businesses here selling vintage and fashion clothes, art, art materials and all kinds of stuff like that – punctuated by fashionable cafes and business places for startups.

The art here is indeed stunning and the atmosphere fascinating and engaging. It’s like a world within, encased as it is in industrial, backstreet Birmingham. The surrounding grit seems to reinforce the impression of a down at heel but humming artist’s quarter.

Another place I must return to when I have time.

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February 9th – I was in town past six, in the early darkness, and the light had that blue, luminescent quality to it you don’t often get. Wandering in town from supermarket to supermarket, the urbanity glowed beautifully.

The Canon really loves an urban electric evening, I have to say, and I still do love Walsall.

May 19th – Much of the journey was an errand in Digbeth. I visited the Custard Factory, the hipster area that once promised so much, but these days seems to be a sort of holding area for a failed urban arts dream; but beyond it I found the River Rea, skulking through Digbeth like a dirty secret. 

Also in the backstreets, the bizarre, never finished abandoned Duddeston Railway Viaduct, partially built by the Great Western Railway to gain access to Birmingham New Street, but abandoned half-built when they built their own station at Snow Hill instead, now standing as a sort of infrastructure curiosity, barely noticed by most people who visit.

Returning through Aston and Gravelly Hill, I passed from Salford Park to Aston itself, along the cycleway by the Tame, snaking under the motorway and Cross City Line viaducts. The 1960s motorway revolution heard you liked viaducts, so they put another viaduct over the one you already had.

Birmingham is about it’s arteries: river, canal, rail and road. They both bisect the city, and give it character and history, and I love them all.

5th September – At the top of Digbeth High Street in Birmingham, one of about 130 or so left.

Highly unusual, it captures a fleeting moment in British history. Been meaning to feature this for some time – and it’s not the only one in Brum, either.

A fine bit of British quirkyness on a fun afternoon.

August 20th – I had to pop into Walsall for some bits and pieces on my way home, and so I rode up Church Hill and down the marketplace. 

Walsall may have changed beyond recognition in many ways, but that view of the yellow sandstone church at the top of the steps is gorgeous, iconic and unique.

Some things are timeless.

October 10th – Back in Walsall, I realised I was wrong; there is something awfully special about Walsall at night, too, but for deferent reasons. In Birmingham, It’s about the rush dying down, about the custom changing, about the shift from daytime economy to night time. In Walsall, it’s about empty, stone empty urban space. Places that in the daylight one doesn’t notice, or care about, but in the sodium light make a different, slightly threatening world.

July 19th – Ducking off work early for probably the last sunny afternoon of the warm spell for now. I hopped on the canal at Tyseley, then cycled into the city centre, and out via Smethwick, Great Bridge, the Tame Valley canal and Walsall. The canal was beautiful, and the scenery great, but my energy reserves were low and I found the going hard. I was reminded again, however, how green and beautiful our local waterways are, from inner city budleia to Smethwick’s hanging ivy; from the water lilies of Park Hall to the thistles of Rushall Junction. A great, but enervating ride.

July 5th – As I cycled back from Digbeth to the city centre, this collection of floral tributes caught my eye. It then occurred that this was where a young man recently fell to his death from the car park above, in an apparent suicide. I’m inured to roadside shrines like this as I see so many marking road accidents, but I don’t mind admitting that when confronted with this one, I wept for the poor lad openly.

An awful, awful thing, and a sign of the times.