Tag: Mill Green

April 13th – By heck, it was nippy this morning. Not cold by winter standards, of course, but cold by spring ones. There was quite a heavy frost last night, and it made for an interesting mist. The sunrise wasn’t vivid like earlier in the week, but pastel-hued and ever changing. At Stonnall, my muse, Grove Hill, was stunning, as were the pylons and woods at Mill Green. An hour and a half later, on the Arrow Valley cycle route in Redditch, the lake was also captivating, it’s fringes holding a light mist, softening the light that made even the Canada Geese precious.

October 19th – Another moron who can’t wait a couple of seconds, causing me to brake to make allowance for his impetuosity. There’s really no need for this – he didn’t save any time, and just pissed me off. Is there a gene that makes some folk like this, or is it a hormone thing?

For fans of the ride videos, they’re difficult right now because of the sun angle at the time I got to work. Hence this one is a bit dingy. Hoping the situation will improve soon.

October 12th – Returning at the same time as the previously dark and dingy evenings this week, it was still fairly bright without the cloud that had overcast the previous two days. The low sun came out, and the sunset rendered many views golden. At Mill Green, it added a glowing sheen to the hedgerows and cottages, while it’s final recedence as I passed Lazy Hill made for a dramatic and beautiful sunset. This is more like it…

October 10th – a bit of a grim landmark – this is my first normal-time homebound commute of the season on which I needed lights. A depressing milestone indeed. It seemed fitting, therefore, to feature this odd, unsettling landmark. I’ve been passing this derelict, abandoned and decaying house for several years. Situated in the plush, posh hamlet of Mill Green near Little Aston, it’s a huge house that would, at one time, have been worth at least £500,000. It’s rotting away, unloved and not evidently for sale. I have no idea how it came to be in this state – you surely can’t just forget or abandon a house of this value – yet someone has. This former home, between other, occupied houses of a similar value has lain like this for years. Does anyone know the story?

September 26th – The crews working on the overhead electricity line running over Mill Green seem to be wrapping up now – the scaffold support towers have been dismantled, and the warning signs have gone from the lanes of the area. There is still the odd vehicle parked near pylons in fields and gateways, however, as stuff is collected and tested. On my way to work this morning I spotted this hank of cable in a field gateway near Little Aston, and resolved to photograph it when I came home. I wondered why such a huge quantity of wire had not been stolen for scrap… then I checked it out. It’s not electrical wire, but multicored fibre optic cable. I hadn’t noticed before, but this seems to be wound around the bonding wires – the very top ones – between towers on the transmission line. Routing such cables in this way must be a good earner for the operators of the National Grid, as they can carry huge amounts of data, and the route is very direct without the hassle of digging. Genius.

September 1st – Autumn continued to tap me on the shoulder as I left at sunrise for work. The cold night air had caused the finest, lowest of mists that hung in hollows, against hedges and huddled round houses. This was truly magical, and I seemed to enjoy it almost alone. I saw few others – if only the people of England could see it. I was very nearly late for my train as I spent too long taking pictures. By the time I reached Four Oaks, the mist had burnt off and this rare beauty passed unknown to the yawning commuters who joined my train, bleary and yawning.

June 15th – I’ve still yet to catch the linesmen in action, but work to install the new overhead lines over Mill Green continues apace. I’m not clear here if the cables in this shot are being pulled through to the ground drum or the other way around. Up near the pylon hanger, there seems to be the remnants of something attached to the lines, which is possibly the scars of a pair of Stockbridge dampers, so I think these are old lines being wound to the ground. This work continues to captivate me.