Tag: shenstone

January 7th – It was a very cold afternoon as I set out, not feeling 100 percent. Black ice lurked in the country lanes around Stonnall and Shenstone, but I felt secure on the ice tyres. I pottered through a very decent golden hour and pressed up through Weeford to Whittington as a very frosty night fell. I was cold, my shoulder was aching, and in the dusk, I suffered a puncture.

It wasn’t a bad ride though, and I did enjoy it on the whole. After all, it was still fairly light at 4:30pm so the night really is on the run now.

There was that, at least.

I noticed that the Ivy House in Shenstone had had some love since I last looked a few years ago and now was looking in excellent condition after several decades of neglect. That’s a huge, rambling house. I bet it’s interesting inside.

December 28th – A ride out in ice, after overnight light snow. I was still nursing a shoulder strain which made the ride slow and plodding, but it was very enjoyable in the clear light and snow-dusted countryside.

I went to Chasewater to practice ice skills in safety, and even had a go at the boardwalk on the north heath, which was enjoyable once I got over the fear.

Staffordshire looked wonderful and the run out via Shenstone, Wall, Canwell, Hints and Weeford was a joy.

Just hope this shoulder improves soon.

December 21st – I had to return to Shenstone to pick something up I’d spotted the day before, so rode over there on my way back from Darlaston. 

Whilst there, a lovely, Christmassy, almost Dickensian image – the florist’s shop, closed for the night, but subtly festive.

Really into this Solstice/Chrismas thing now. And there’s a big reason for that….

December 20th – Returning through Shenstone, I popped into the village to the shop on an errand. Coming back down the village, I was reminded what a handsome pub The Railway is.

The extension in the foreground was once a chapel, then a butcher’s shop, but is now part of the stone-flagged lounge and has a large window it’s great to sit by and watch the world go by.

A lovely pub I’d almost forgotten about.

December 18th – I did return however in mist which was pretty eerie – coming back from Shenstone I was wary of ice but the biggest issues were remarkably daft driving (overtaking on a bend in reduced visibility?) and a huge pothole I narrowly missed in Cranebrrok Lane.

My muse, Shensone Station, looks excellent in mist with it’s metal halide lights, and rolling into an ethereal Brownhills from Shire Oak in the orange glow of sodium streetlights was pretty beautiful too, despite the traffic.

December 6th – Well, this’ll be the end then. So long, it was… memorable.

I was working away today, and whilst stood on a cold, dark platform at New Street Station in the early hours I realised that this would in all probability be my last journey ever with London Midland Trains. It’s not been a wholly enjoyable relationship, to be honest with you.

I’m not going train negative, it’s just that the local operating franchise changes on this Sunday coming to West Midlands Trains Ltd. 

The transition will be hardly noticeable of course – the same staff, the same trains, probably the same crap service – but the current rolling stock will get new graphics and it’ll feel new for a bit. In reality, it’ll be same old ordure with a different multinational putting it’s own brand of polish on the turd.

I’m concerned about the future. West Midlands Trains have been allowed to bid on increased passenger density, and I fear they’ll ban cycles. I’m concerned about some of the services I use, and whether this new team of profit-hoovers will actually tackle the staffing issues that have dogged the outfit since, well, privatisation.

Then there’s the question of new trains. Will we ever get any? With other franchises in trouble (East Coast in particular) I’m not positive.

As I watched the appropriately delayed, cut short Lichfield Service disappear into the blackness of a drizzly, windy winters night, I felt it wasn’t so much goodbye, as same old mess, different logo.

November 26th – Another day of beautiful light, but cold. Probably not cold for the time of year, but after recent mild weeks it seems to be positively arctic. 

I’d been doing a lot of mechanical work on the bike in recent days, and needed to test it with a shortish run with plenty of good hill action, so I went out early afternoon, over to Shenstone, Weeford, Hints, Hopwas, up the canal to Hademore and back in darkness through Wall and Chesterfield.

I took time to study the churches at Shenstone, Weeford and Hopwas – from the hideous but triumphant Gothic of Shenstone, to the farmhouse twee of Hopwas, all three are classics. All within a short distance.

Staffordshire is unusually blessed with a stunning and varied ecclesiastical architectural tradition.

November 15th – And back, so it was, to Shenstone, an altogether different type of late-night feeling. This is a beautiful building, in a lovely location, and a great place to leave, but even better to return to.

I love it at night, the way it’s lit, the overhead wires, the sense of an island in the darkness. A beacon, calling me toward home, just a few miles to go.

A haunting, gorgeous station. 

October 10th – I returned to Shenstone on a horribly overcrowded, delayed train feeling flustered and weary, but then discovered something else I’d lost in recent months; that view of Shenstone Church across the village rooftops.

Shenstone Church is almost unique in British architecture – it’s a church which is improved when you can only see the elegant, foursquare tower and not the hideous, dark gothic edifice attached to it. 

I used to pass through here a lot when working in Birmingham, Telford and Redditch, but these days with others now doing those jobs, I’m more based in Darlaston so don’t see the seasonal changes of this place as much as I used to, which is sad.

The treat of a gathering dusk over Lynn and Stonnall as I return home is still a wonderfully life affirming thing, though.

September 17th – By the time I arrived at Shenstone 30 minutes later, the rain and skies had cleared and there was a beautiful violet sunset, which lit my muse of Shenstone Station beautifully in the dusk.

Riding back to Brownhills, I screeched to a half to avoid someone in the road – a full grown, large adult toad, who was healthy and obstinate in the way that gets so many of these unfortunate creatures run over by vehicles.

I pulled out a tissue, and despite his protestations and jet of defensive urine, popped him to safety in the grass verge.

I stop for toads, great sunsets and often for no apparent reason whatsoever…