Tag: shenstone

February 5th – I’d nipped into Brum late in the afternoon on an errand, and came back to Shenstone on a surprisingly empty commuter service. The wind was again building up and it wasn’t going to be a pleasant ride home. 

I love Shenstone Station. It’s like a lot of things in life – it was once truly beautiful, but is now aged, still beautiful, but weatherworn and a haunting reminder of something once glorious. At night in particular, it whispers of a more genteel railway age.

Leaving here on a Friday with a bad ride home to come, the one frustrating aspect is the steps. The northbound platform from which I alighted has no level access, and one must heft the bike up the steps, only to ride back down to the same level off the bridge.

It always seems a little bit pointless, like an assault course… but it’s always nice to be here.

January 16th – On my return, I came through Shenstone, and was reminded of s simple fact…

A village can be awash with money. A parish council can be very good at getting grants. But neither of those facts mean the village has any taste.

I think this clock is hideous. Sorry.

January 11th – Another reason I wasn’t feeling too chipper was I’d forgotten my camera, but felt like I might have lost it. I hadn’t, thankfully, just in the general cloud of roughness that morning I’d left it behind.

Returning to Shenstone tired, I chanced my hand at a couple of night shots of my beloved station, and have been genuinely surprised at how decent the phone camera is in low light. 

A bit grainy, but I don’t think it did too bad. Surprising.

January 8th – A rushed day in which I went to work, came back mid afternoon, did a couple of jobs at home, then had to dash here, there and everywhere on errands.

Sadly, in all the hubbub I failed to notice the camera was accidentally set in some awful scene mode and all my pictures came out horrid, except these. 

I had to zip to Walsall Wood, then over to Shenstone, calling at Stonnall on the way back. The sunset was beautiful, and it felt like the air was warming up again.

The water, though: everywhere. Everything is saturated from all the rain. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a winter like this. I thought Christmas 2013 was wet, but it was nothing in comparison.

December 20th – Oh man, am I unwell. Really grim cold, headaches and even my jaw hurts. Hopefully, it’ll blow itself out in a day or so.

I got out at lunchtime, again on Christmas errands – over to Weeford and Packington via Stonnall and Shenstone, then back through Whittington, Fradley and Lichfield. Setting off on a bright, cold day, it felt like winter at last. The scenery was good, the light excellent and only a headwind honed on Satan’s oilstone dampened my enthusiasm.

I do like the wind turbine at Curborough – considering how many people, including the local MP, were losing their minds over it at planning, I think it’s rather elegant.

Sadly, at Packington, the heavens opened in a series of short, sharp, heavy showers, which continued for the remainder of the afternoon. Battling home from Curborough into driving rain and a headwind was not fun.

Still, I have been asking for some proper winter weather, and that was definitely it…

Be careful what you wish for.

August 30th – This time of year is mostly about fruits, and this year, there are no shortage. Another fine crop of walnuts in Wall, possibly the best yet. Conkers were growing big and fat at Weeford village hall, and reships glisten orange by the waysides. At the Bourne Brook near Thickbroom, the Himalayan basal is beautiful, but chocking out the other pants, notably purple loosestrife. In Shenstone churchyard, prickly sweet chestnuts fascinate.

Painful as autumn is, heralding the oncoming darkness, it is such a beautiful season.

July 28th – Returning home from Telford, unusually these days, I took the train to Shenstone and rode from there. It was against the wind, but a lovely ride: the fields are full of life and everywhere looks beautiful in summer colours.

Lots of maize about this year, interestingly in fields it was in before; clearly, crop rotation not a big priority. The crops are growing tall around Stonnall, and lush green, like a jungle. It’s a most un-British crop in that it’s so tall.

Also prevalent this season are spuds – acres and acres of them around Springhill. I wonder where they all go?

July 17th – I had to pop down to Shenstone on my way home; on my return through the backlands I noticed something that had largely been passing me by of late; the crops in the fields are now ripening, and the harvest cannot be far away.

At Footherly, a field of nice, plump wheat is turning golden in the July warmth. The clean, milky-tasting grain will, if the weather continues to be reasonable, make great flour.

Nice to see.

May 30th – As is traditional on a day when you have a new camera to try out, the light was crap. It was dull and overcast and less than inspiring – but the views over the Brownhills and Shenstone countryside were green and lush.

That limpid-looking pool is a surface drainage lagoon for the M6 Toll. You’d never know to look at it.