Tag: St johns

August 30th – From the top of Shire Oak heading into Rushall, I stopped to admire the view, as I often do. It’s worth clicking on that top image and checking it out closely – beyond Walsall, Dudley Castle is clearly visible to the left. From here one can see just how green and verdant our area is in Summer, and I do think this vista – with the church tower above the treetops – is rather beautiful in summer. I’m still no wiser as to what the tower central on the skyline is.

Further down the Lichfield Road the houses being built on the former St. John’s school site are making progress. Interesting to see the old roof truss still in use on the open gable. In time, the new houses will adjoin the remainder of the old school.

A dull, overcast day, but still plenty to see.

August 7th – I had to nip into Brum on my way home from work, and hopped on a train to Shenstone on the way back. I haven’t been this way much lately, and the familiar wooded hill with church tower – just the one in summer, the other being obscured by trees – looked splendid in the early evening sunshine. I love how you can see the gargoyles at the vertices from a very long way away.

The station and it’s complex, partially mansard roof is still gorgeous, too, despite being neutered of it’s tall, elegant chimneys several decades ago.

Shenstone is gorgeous, and there are few better places to be on a warm, sunny evening.

April 2nd – I spun past the St. John’s School site this morning, and noted it was now almost totally cleared, and it appears the demolition crew have left the site. The one gable remains – in use as a private residence – but otherwise, little trace of 150 years of history is evident, and the scraped ground and piles of crushed hardcore await the next stage. 

Of course, the old building had been derelict for four decades, so in many ways, this is already an improvement of sorts – it means progress.

I hope construction will start here soon…

January 5th – It was a thoroughly horrid afternoon. Windy, wet, dark. I went out with a heavy heart, and didn’t find much of interest in the immediate area, so I spun out to Shenstone down the very wet and muddy backlanes.

Visiting the church, I was again reminded what a gothic, ugly edifice it is. I’ve never liked it; it’s a perfectly competent architectural design, it’s just not to my taste. I find the dark grey sandstone, and heavy Victoriana dismal. Even the gargoyles look desperately unhappy.

Compare St. Johns, Shenstone with any other local church, say Hopwas. Hopwas is a place you’d feel happy to give praise in, to wed, to christen; Shenstone looks like a place to go and endure, repent and suffer – it’s full of foreboding.

More interesting to me is the old tower in the churchyard; crumbling, it’s the remains of an earlier church. Perhaps it would have been better left.

Down in the village,I headed to the Lammas Land – a strip of parkland along the Footherley Brook. On the way, I passed The Plough In, busy, bright, inviting. Newly reopened, it’s good to see. It had been derelict for a few years.

December 15th – On an mission to Shelfield before tea (why does Christmas involve distributing stuff far and wide?), I took a route up Walsall Wood High Street to get the church lit up for it’s carol service. Sadly, my photos were awful, but it did look nice and seasonal. I noticed too the the Drunken Duck seemed busy for the hour. Recently under new management, it seems to be gaining popularity. 

Must give it a go at some point.

October 3rd – I’m not a big fan of domestic roses – I much prefer their wild, more fragrant cousins. However, even cultivated blooms look great with a fresh rainfall upon them. I spotted these glorious flowers outside Shenstone Church.

A real splash of colour on a very murky day. There’s beauty everywhere if we’re open to it, I guess.

July 25th – Architectural perspective. I’d been to the night market at Walsall, and I came back down the Bridge. Walsall’s architecture is actually glorious in parts, and very, very handsome, but few ever look upwards and notice it. It’s also impossible to photograph without lens distortion and addled geometry, as you can’t get far enough away for a decent angle. 

Later on, passing through Walsall Wood, I noticed two thirds of the old St. Johns school, derelict as long as I can remember, still being carried to dust by the elements, wet rot, fungal deterioration and vandalism. Meanwhile, the recently refurbished southern gable is still a lovely looking home.

Never have worked that one out.

November 27th – I see Christmas is rolling in, then. I’ve noticed Christmas lights up in Brownhills, a rather pathetic effort in Shelfield and tonight, Walsall Wood’s Christmas Tree was lit up in St. John’s churchyard. This is an interesting thing – Walsall Council long ago stopped buying trees for the lesser, satellite towns like Brownhills and Aldridge, and encouraged places to dig their own hole. Walsall Wood, for the last few years, has had a tree paid for out of the pockets of Councillors Anthony Harris and Mike Flower, a rare and welcome act of personal largesse. I don’t know for sure, but I expect they’ve done the same again.

We may not agree politically, but this is an act of true public spiritedness for which I thank them. Cheers, chaps.

November 22nd – Today was the reverse of yesterday, with added headwind. It was a fine morning commute into Birmingham, but the wind had been crafted on Satan’s back step. I ploughed into it head first on the way, fearful of the weather forecast which predicted very bad weather for the journey home. The forecasters were right.

I only had a few usable photos. All was fine until I alighted the train at Walsall, then the heavens opened. Torrential rain, a following wind and a desire to get the hell home took me. The were floodwaters everywhere, and the new ring road became a moat. I haven’t seen rain like this in many a year. But my waterproofs kept me dry, and I got home red faced, but in one piece. 

Forecast seems quite good for tomorrow… here’s hoping. 

September 7th – It had been a gruelling week. In Leicester for most of it, I’d had enough. The weather had been great, and I’d missed it by being holed up indoors all week. I escaped early on Friday afternoon, and endured a sleepy commute home on hot, sweaty trains. At Shenstone, I emerged in fresh air and sunshine, and immediately headed up Church Hill to the churchyard. I love Shenstone Churchyard, it’s overgrown air of neglect and nature’s reclamation softens a church whose dark, Victorian gothic I’ve never been fond of. It’s a peaceful place, and although I don’t like the church, I admire it and it’s bold architectural ambition, replete with vulgar gargoyles. I felt relaxed, already.