Tag: railway

May 31st – A really bad commute home this evening. The train I was due to catch – the 16:08 from Telford to Brum – was running 30 minutes late. Then cancelled, which meant there wasn’t another train until 16:51. Then it reappeared on the system, and rolled up at about 16:40… to terminate short in Wolverhampton. Resigned to my fate, I changed onto the stopper train from Wolves to Walsall that stops at every anthill and lamp-post. I arrived in Walsall – this train itself late – at about 18:25. I should have been at home with my feet up by then, and I still had to cycle home.

Wolverhampton station is a barren, soulless place. Like the city itself, I’ve tried to love it, but can’t, sadly. Always seems way too harsh and way too neglected to me. It matched my mood perfectly.  

May 21st – Today, I was mostly in Tyseley again, which meant a short hop on the Snow Hill line. I jumped on the train at Moor Street Station – a beautifully restored building, more of a film set than commuter hub. Like it’s sister Chiltern Railways station, Marylebone, it’s a bright, airy, wonderful place to catch a train from. 

A rare delight in the UK rail system.

May 16th – Today found me in Tyseley, which made a change. I don’t come down this way much, but when I do, I always love the air of bustle in these industrial, urban streets. There’s always something going on around every corner; stuff to be shifted, things being unloaded. The backtreets are alive with the buzz of small industry – sewing machines, lathes, injection moulders all add to the background susurration, along with the clank of metal, clatter of doors and hiss of compressed air. Intermingled with it all is the faded air of a once possibly genteel Victorian place, whose station still bears the hallmarks of that period, from when the nearby terraces must also date. Most people pass this place in disgust, but actually, if you spend a while and traverse its streets, it has a kind of faded charm all of its own.

May 14th – Today, I went to Leicester for a two hour meeting, which pretty much wasted the whole day. It was a terrible Monday anyway; a day of forgetfulness, lost objects and minor irritations. Whilst waiting for a train home at South Wigston – thankfully, the trains were on time today if nothing else was – I noticed this curious label attached to the railway sleepers in the four-foot. Someone out there must know what this means. A yellow label, apparently mass produced, bearing the legend ‘Appendix A’ and pointing toward Leicester. Any ideas? Am I the only person that notices this stuff?

April 19th – I’m fascinated by the machinery of the railways. I’m no train spotter, and wouldn’t cross the road to watch a train go by. However, as a train traveller of a certain geeky nature, things like signalling, communications and the weird and wonderful machines that one sees whilst negotiating the morass that is the British railway system hold a certain fascination. At a wind-blown and damp Nuneaton, there sat an incredibly complex ballast regulating machine. This Austrian made train levels, adjusts and cleans the ballast, the bed of shale under the track, and keeps the track in perfect condition. Usually run with a tamper (the yellow machine parked behind), a train that measures and corrects the sleeper and track positions, this is a very complex machine indeed. While I was admiring it, a General Motors class 66 locomotive trundled through the station; at a little over walking pace, it clanked its couplings, pulling upwards of thirty containers behind. The raw, yet controlled power of that – the noise, vibration and sheer presence – is awe inspiring.

You’d have to be dead not to be impressed by that…

April 12th – I don’t know much about the Little Holms in Shenstone. This secluded, rather pretty public open space runs from the railway bridge by the Pumphouse along the banks of the Footherley Brook. It’s been there as long as I can remember, and is delightful at any time of year. A great spot for quiet contemplation. It’s also a great place to appreciate the bridge and it’s architecture. 

April 9th – Now, here’s a thing. This lost lane used to cut off the junction between the B5014 Lichfield Road and A515 Tewnalls Lane at Seedy Mill, just north of Lichfield. It offered a short-cut alternative for cyclists and walkers who didn’t fancy the busy junction of two main roads. I’m not sure it ever had a name, but it was cut off and abandoned when the railway that passes through here was expanded to 4 tracks wide towards the end of the last decade. The junctions at either end may have gone, but the metalled road surface remains under a layer of thick moss and weed, as nature slowly claws itself back. You can still walk and cycle it, but from the A515 end, it’s a bit of a scramble up the bank. I think I must be the only person who still uses it.

April 6th – I came out of Birmingham on cycle route 5, up the canal to Smethwick’s Galton Bridge, then up through the Sandwell Valley to Rushall Junction on the canal. Galton bridge is a historic, very high bridge over the mainline canal. Built in 1829 by Thomas Telford, it’s a classic of its kind and the views from it are fantastic. The canal here is lovely to cycle, and steeped in industrial history. Well worth a wander if you get chance. Travel writer and culvert crawler Nick Crane came this way in his book ‘Two Degrees West’ and pointed out that the arrangement of canals (2, side by side at different levels), Railways (2 different lines at different levels) and road bridges made the physical geography here so complex that he had to draw it out on paper. He’s right.

April 3rd – Today was about the sky. What it threatened, what it was. What it held back. It was distinctly wintry after recent days, and as I arrived at Shenstone I noticed the old tower visible on the skyline next to the pronounced gargoyles of the new church. Feeling spots of rain on my head on platform 4c at New Street, I looked up. The sky was still being threatening. When I left work and arrived at Telford station, it was wet, miserable and grey. I had a long way to go tonight, and it didn’t look like the commuting gods were on my side. 

Actually, it seemed I was wrong. 

March 26th – Beauty can be found in very unexpected places. As I got off the train into a sunny South Wigston, in Leicester, these gorgeous grape hyacinths were growing up a piece of grass that’s usually wasteland. Mixed in were  primroses, polyanthus and what seemed to be some kind of violet. This station is is normally just one away from being the rectum of the UK rail system, only beating Lichfield Trent Valley because it has ramp access to bot platforms. Usually it’s desolate, untidy and lonely, often threatening. Today, it was a little oasis of purple and joy…