Tag: snail

December 9th – Lichfield has a little secret that I’d love to share: Melbourne Coffee.

In a passageway between Market Street and the central car park, there’s a kiosk run by a lovely Australian lady who, to put it frankly, can caffeinate me anytime. Here espressos are toe-curlingly good, and made with expert care, dedication, and the happiest, loveliest customer service you could wish for. 

On this cold day, the bar-seats at the kiosk counter had hot water bottles for customer comfort, and the brew slid down well, as no doubt would have the lovely looking cake were I not digesting my own bodyweight in marinaded goat.

The lady running this fantastic venture is the same lady behind the frankly bonkers Leomansley Snail thing, and I think she’s ace.

July 30th – The weather was sunny with squally, heavy showers and due to domestic complications I didn’t get out until late in the afternoon. When I did, I didn’t have a great deal of energy and the wind was a bit fierce so I took a leisurely bible to Chasewater and the surrounding area for a few hours.

With the bad weather it was very quiet, and also a splendid day for chasing rainbows.

I note the harvest is underway at Home Farm, Sandhills; that the birds foot trefoil has been rejuvenated by the recent rain; that the little pond right by the Burntwood bypass is absolutely teeming with busy water snails and that cows are roaming the north heath as well as the spillway area. 

It was a very dramatic day with some lovely sights but I do wish the settled weather would return for a bit.

July 2nd – Passing through Leomonsley in Lichfield later in the evening, I note it’s holiday time for the Australian snails who currently have a bit of a beach party going on.

I won’t make any bones about this: The Lichfeldian ‘A-Snailian’ cult is bonkers, childish, utter nonsense and totally, totally brilliant. People regularly take diversions in their routes to see what the snails are up to. 

Find out more here – Facebook (sorry).

I love it to bits.

July 31t – I had something to go to in the evening, and returned late. I returned after dark, and it was beautiful, as late summer nights tend to be; it had rained briefly in the afternoon and the damp had drawn out the frogs, toads and gastropods in huge numbers.

This delightful pair were within six inches of each other on the grass by the canal at Silver Street. 

Some people find these creatures of the night slimy and unpleasant; I think they’re beautiful, in their own way.

May 1st – I had thought I was alone on the pub terrace. However, an ominous crunch made me look down… and the patio was actually busy with slugs and snails, presumably energised by the damp after the previously dry days. 

I picked up the bike and carefully stepped around them. I always feel pangs of guilt when I hear that crunch. I have a soft spot for these fascinating, bizarre creatures. Hate to kill them.

June 20th – Out for a beer in Walsall with some very good pals, I found myself coming home in heavy, sweet, warm rain. The bike was fast and the roads slick, and I must confess I enjoyed the ride hugely. It was a great sensory experience – the dark, the sound, the smell of wet greenery, the sweep of passing traffic, the taste of fresh, clean rain on my tongue. Green Lane in Walsall Wood remains the only place I feel uneasy after dark, but the deer and badger I startled here were worth the journey alone, but also endearing were the frogs and snails, out enjoying the downpour on the pub patio as I unlocked my bike.

I’d swear that wee frog is grinning.

Bad weather isn’t all bad at all.

September 3rd – Beauty is often found in unexpected places, and unexpected circumstances. Like a bad penny today, I pitched up again in South Wigston. This station – no more than a suburban halt, really – has always been a station I’d hated. No information system, little shelter, grim and fore bidding in the dark. And very, very cold in winter. Yet, this year, something strange happened. I discovered beauty here. I started to study the patch of scrub between the ramp and platform on the northbound side way back in spring, when it started to show a remarkable diversity of flowers. Untended, it seems to have been subject to some form of guerrilla planting. As the seasons have advanced, I’d spotted more stuff going on in this patch of scrub, which I feel sure I’m the only person ever to have noticed. It’s enchanting.
Today I found myself studying it again, at 8:45 on a misty, yet hazily sunny autumn morning. The fruiting has started in earnest. Haws, Hips, and catoniaster (the blackbirds go nuts for those bright orange berries) mingled with teasels, snails and cobwebs to make an autumnal tableaux that astounded and transfixed me.
Sometimes, I think I must be the only person in the world who gets excited about this stuff.