Tag: Park

October 18th – I’ve been in Darlaston all this week, and Kings Hill continues to pique my interest. As well as some great faded architecture, this characterful post-industrial borderland between Walsall and Sandwell contains a really great park. Recently refurbished Kings Hill Park – which I erroneously referred to as King George Park in an earlier post for some reason – is hilly, wooded and beautiful. There’s a wonderful new sculpture, and the whole place is wearing autumn beautifully. Emerging into Franchise Street, I admired the view of St. Matthews, Walsall over the rooftops. There are some fantastic old houses here.

Darlaston is full of surprises.

September 24th – my love affair with Darlaston is decades old and shows no signs of abating. I adore the place, from the grimy industrial backstreets, to the quiet loveliness of Victoria Park. Here, half a century ago, trains thundered through this cutting serving the freight needs of the Black Country, but now, landscaped into a lovely open space, it makes for a nice traffic free ride away from some of the worst traffic of the town centre. In spring, this spot is lined with snowdrops, crocuses and daffodils. 

I always liked that footbridge, too; it’s an inspired touch.

September 23rd – The fungi is really starting to show now. No fly agaric yet, which is my favourite of all, but I did spot this beautiful golden bracket in Victoria Park, Darlaston today. Growing on an old tree stump, it was bleeding some kind of resin and very very vivid. It appears to be some variety of polypore, but I have no idea what, and the internet and my books haven’t been helpful. The other ones are common puffballs, growing on the canal bank at Pleck. When ripe, they’ll burst and release powdery spores that drift on the wind. 

In all the flora and fauna, the mycology is the most alien and beautiful to me.

June 22nd – There’s dereliction of a different kind not far away from the land in the last post. Oak Park – the original one, consisting of bowling greens, ferris courts and gardens was originally for the amenity of the local mining community and held in trust. Now, it sits gently decaying like some lost garden ruin next to the 70s leisure centre that bears it’s name. 

Left to rot by a council that no longer cares for it, it’s a sad site that I find tragic and upsetting, not least the overgrown remnants of the BMX track out back, added in the 80s. This was once a grit track, and very popular.

Dereliction of land and dereliction of duty.

May 15th – Today, I went to Redditch for the first time in more than six months. I really enjoyed the Arrow Valley Cycle route, and have missed it loads. This traffic free, quiet belt of parkland runs along the river arrow right from north to south Redditch, and is a real eye-opener. It’s beautifully tended, litter free and a haven for wildlife. The Arrow was in full flow after the heavy rains of the previous night, and the paths were wet and glistened. Canada Geese loafed as swallows dived over the central lake, and grebes scudded past. Everything was beautifully green, and the lower reaches smelled beautifully of wild garlic, although the crop this year is limited. Where there had been whole glades of this aromatic plant last year, there were only clumps.

I’ve missed this commute. It’s lovely.

April 6th – I had to go to Walsall, and the spring was definitely here. Still that cold, cold wind, but when I stopped, the warmth on my back and face was beautiful. After visiting the bank and running a few errands, I cycled around Walsall Arboretum. It really looks good now, and I can’t wait to see the trees with some leaves again. Walsall, too, was reawakening. A great day to teach a child to ride a bike, or photograph your toddler in the park.

August 15th – Last spring, every time I came to Redditch, the state of the River Arrow worried me. It had been such a dry year that I feared for the ecology and hydroecology of this little-noticed waterway. The flow slowed to a lazy trickle, the waterfowl and kingfishers vanished. Conditions were bad.
What a difference a bad summer makes. Now, the Arrow is flowing through it’s valley park beautifully, and the sound of flowing water has returned, as have the kingfishers. A remarkable, and most welcome recovery. If you want to know why I was late, it wasn’t the train. I stood for 5 minutes watching the birds and enjoying the spirit of the water.

Jun 12th – Chasetown Memorial Park is a place I hadn’t noticed before. Passing at 6pm on a dull weekday evening, I caught the sight of a bowls match in progress, and stopped to take a shufty. I love watchig bowls, and I think its decline as a sport played in municipal parks is terribly sad. Like village cricket, it’s a gentle, genteel thing, and very relaxing to watch. This seems a well kept green and I did like the Memorial Park. The war memorial itself is sombre, as you’d expect, but beautiful. Chasetown is often a place ignored passing through, but there are gems here, and I’m sure, more I’ve yet to discover. Right next door is the wonderful former mining college, now community hub, and a fine facility indeed. Inside is a small but touching display of mining mementos and ephemera.
If these photos seem a bit… odd, it’s because my camera battery went flat and died, so they were taken on my phone. 

February 22nd – Recently saved from the bulldozer, Brownhills Business Park at night is an interesting combination of discharge light, shadow and angle. Partially consisting of some of the surface buildings of the former Walsall Wood Colliery, this is an interesting little industrial park which always has lots going on, and a wide variety of businesses operate here. Lurking on the corner of this site is a former mineshaft used for dumping millions of gallons of industrial effluent in the 70’s and 80’s, so perhaps it’s for the best that they didn’t get permission to build houses on this site. 

January 3rd – It was at the southern end of the park I first heard it. An insistent, solid, two-pulse, one note, regular cry. Loud, actually, but until now, lost in the traffic noise and windrush. I dropped down into the base of the park and followed the calling. It was very nearly dusk, only the odd hardy dog walker or two around, and the persistent bird call, coming, as it turned out, from the dense copse in the northern hollow. What I think was a little owl (but I’m no expert on bird calls, it was certainly an owl) was calling out for all it was worth. I was in awe. Days of feeling lower than a snake’s knees, and then to hear such a bird a short ride away. Fabulous.