Tag: Maurice Purser

April 22nd – The late Lichfeldian touring cyclist and acquaintance Maurice Purser used to tell me you could see 7 spires/towers and/or churches from Pipe Hill. Maurice, who enjoyed such puzzles, had me scouring for months with binoculars in the mid-80s. What actually solved it for me was not careful scrutiny of the city skyline from high up here past Mickle Hills, but a map.

Maurice liked riddles especially if they were a bit misleading. At some point I looked at a map, and noticed that Aldershawe, the country house visible 90 degrees sunwise from this view had a private chapel. So whilst the riddle was correct, it was a bit cunning.

These days, Aldershawe is divided into smaller dwellings and you can’t see any of it from here for trees.

With a decent zoom on a reasonable day though, Lichfield’s churches, spires and rooftops still come alive, and a middle aged cyclist remembers this view as a young lad, with a leathery, weathered older gent telling tall tales of derring-do.

Wherever you are Maurice, may it be hawthorn free, the wind at your back, the sun on your face, and speed in your wheels. And a good cafe stop.

September 18th – Afternoon escape into Staffordshire, and I piled it in up through Abbots Bromley and Hoar Cross to Newborough to try the cake shop there. From there, I took a bimble over Marchington Cliff to Buttermilk Hill, and back via Blithfield and Rugeley.

The church is at Woodroffes, the isolated, beautiful church I visited earlier in the year.

A pleasant 70 miler. I realised near Marchington Cliff that I was riding the road that was the last place I saw the late, great Maurice Purser.

These lanes were his, and I rode in his shadow today.

May 3rd – An old cycling friend of mine whom I used to meet occasionally in the lanes of Staffordshire – the late, lamented Maurice Purser, who passed away in 2010 at the age of 93 and still rode when he was 90 – would have referred to today as a ‘wolf of a day’, in that it looked nice and friendly, but was vicious with teeth and claws. The sun was out, it was clear as a bell. It was even a tad warmer – but there was the kind of punishing, relentless wind you get in May that makes cycling in the wrong direction a joyless, unpleasant chore.

I kept close to home, and visited some places I knew would benefit from clear air and sunlight; Lazy Hill, Thornes Hill and the the church at Stonnall, and Grove Hill. I drank in the views, enjoyed the oilseed rape and noted that from Lazy Hill the wind turbine near Whittington was clearly visible. The aspect from the rear of the churchyard – just beyond the fence – was as wonderful as ever, a veritable walk across Stonnall’s rooftops. Up on Grove Hill I was buffeted by the wind and took several attempts at the panorama.

This is our area at it’s best, and worst: a grand day that presented the scenery beautifully, but was just too hostile to cycle out to see it.