Tag: railway

February 4th – It’s the start of a transient period, and it didn’t start well. Over the next few weeks, I’m all over the place, and today, I had to go to Telford. Leaving early, I pointed the bike at Shenstone, and went for it. Checking the train information before I went out, I was happy my train was on schedule. Getting to the station, I found it had been cancelled. To add insult to injury, the train that usually makes an extra stop in such circumstances didn’t, and thundered through the station leaving me forlorn for 30 minutes as it got light. This meant I’d miss my connection to Telford and be an hour late.

Fortunately, I got to New Street just as the late-running Aberystwyth train pulled in – a Benny Hill style dash through the station ensued, and I just caught the train, meaning I was only 15 minutes late after all. 

I had plenty of time at Shenstone to muse on the dawn, Monday mornings and the skyline. There’s something about that tower and it’s gargoyles that fascinate me.

Hopefully, tomorrow will be less stressful.

January 24th – For the second day running, there was chaos on the trains. Spotting it before I left home, I headed for Walsall, where there seemed to be more chance of actually finding a train going to brim. As it happened, I was lucky. I noted on the way that the roads were now so clear that it was allowing some people to drive like all-out morons again…

On getting to Brum, everything was out of sequence, and I ended up getting a train to Acocks Green., I like the area a lot, but my usual route through the suburb was very icy. The townhouses looked fantastic, however.

January 21st – I remain fascinated by the railway, and the snow has given it a new slant. I’m no trainspotter, and couldn’t give a toss for the operations, or the trains, or anything like that. What I like is the scale, the idea of connection, or a big, unified machine snaking from place to place. Today, I thought about the thousands of mechanical points across the country, working in very cold, wet conditions. The electrical overhead wiring, the signals, the track. The buildings. How it all survives and still (mostly) operates in the worst of the UK weather.

It really is quite remarkable when you think about it.

January 16th – When I got to Tyseley, it was snowing, lightly. It had been a very cold commute – the bike computer said -4, but there was a freezing mist that condensed in my eyebrows and froze solid. There was a heavy hoar frost that painted everything in shades of the ethereal – trees, the railway, the urban sprawl – and I think it looked amazing.

I love how the cold weather makes even the mundane and ugly fascinating and beautiful.

January 15th – Today, I had to go to Butlers Lane instead of Blake Street, as I had somewhere to call in on the way. I’ve passed through this suburban halt many, many times, but never alighted here. I was impressed with the ramp/steps design for access. No good for the disabled, obviously, but this was clearly an old solution. I’ve documented steps with bike gutter-channels before, but this is a new one. You could, conceivably push a pushchair up there. The access to both platforms is the same. Neat, really.

January 10th – I got the train back to Blake Street – I’m not really sure why. The disabled ramps there fascinate me – rather than being assembled, manufactured things, as the station is built on a hill, they’re just footpaths that meet the southerly ends of the platform. They’re at a fair incline, and have several dog leg bends in them. Shrouded by tress and shrubs, they are emerald green arcades on summer days, but dark, ethereal ginnels at night. I find the harsh lights, fencing and shadows fascinating.

At the bottom end tonight, however, a classic illustration of unthinking, selfish idiocy; several times this week I’ve come this way to see a bike-shaped object locked to the plastic down pipe at the foot of the ramp. It must belong to a commuter, and is blocking access to the ramp for people in wheelchairs and mobility scooters (there are a fair few who use this station). The staff have left a note attached to the bike. Odd really – there’s proper racks not ten yards away.

January 9th – A beautiful morning, really, and although not very cold, after the warm weather of late it felt bitter. The sun shone, at least while I got to work – and everything had a gorgeous softness to it. In the light haze, the railway fascinated with its extended perspective and shine, and the row of terraces that back onto the junction by the station continue to fascinate in their recursion.

Even the Tyseley incinerator – working normally, as it does everyday – looked impressive; it’s water vapour, not usually visible, was forming plumes of steam in the cold air. Magical.

January 8th – It’s still very mild, and in the morning, I started out into a dull, overcast and hazy day, with a high mist that cloaked the top of the Sutton Coldfield TV transmitter masts. It didn’t bode well, and true to my expectation, the commute home was wet. Why do railway stations always look so dramatic in the night time rain? All those textured surfaces, I guess, and bright lights, I guess.

I think I’ve spent to long admiring stations in the rain, of late…

January 7th – Back in Birmingham, and after a long break it almost felt like coming home, if that makes sense. Nice to see nothing had changed; Tyseley Station maintains it’s gentle slide into decay, but touch wood, the trains have been better. I enjoyed the commute today, and an ongoing change from Vodafone to EE (Orange) for the phone contract seems to have solved the poor signal issues en route, particularly the Gravelly Hill dead spot. Fiddling with technology on my way, I noticed this older tech on my  way through the station. I think it’s an old, very old, signal switch – possibly for train dispatch purposes. I’ve not seen anything like that for a while, and now clearly disconnected, wondered if the nearby rail museum might be interested…

December 22nd – One of the essentials of the Christmas season is chocolate ginger. I can’t abide the stuff myself, but someone hereabouts is very fond of it indeed. The best chocolate ginger comes from the confectioner in Shenstone, so late afternoon, off in the rain I headed. It was very warm out, and it felt almost spring-like. The wind was heavy and drove the rain hard into my face on the way back. Shenstone always looks Christmassy at dusk. There’s something about the closeness of the houses, and the way the street light falls that make this place redolent of a bucolic Christmas card. I noted the Plough pub still boarded up, but the Railway, opposite, and the Fox and Hounds up the road still seemed to be in rude heath.