Tag: Station

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.

February 4th – Yes, I know, vandalism. But I couldn’t fail to be intrigued by this graffiti I spotted mid day when travelling through Droitwich station. Anagrams. Then the cryptic ‘Elm is a Lea Tree’. It must be a message, I’d guess to ‘Miles’, but who knows?

Mindless graffiti is bad kids, don’t do it. But it is unusual to see something so literary.

Odd place, Droitwich.

29th December – I took the train to Bristol on what promised to be one of the few decent days this holiday to check out the Clifton Suspension Bridge, see the Second Severn Crossing and cross the original Severn Bridge to Chepstow – you can’t cycle the Second Severn Crossing as there’s no pedestrian route, sadly.

Mission accomplished. More on my main blog later.

I got there early – a great day, sun warm on my back and so temperate, no need for gloves most of the day. A fairly strong southerly also helped at my back.

One of the biggest shocks was the cycling culture in Bristol. Huge numbers of machines parked up at Bristol Temple Meads, a handsome, wonderfully bonkers gothic edifice that oozes class in a way Birmingham New Street could only dream of. Segregated cycleways in many places, a fantastic river trail and plenty of parking provision.

My only complaint is some of the routes could be signposted better.

It made for a hugely enjoyable journey, and made me lament the awful state of municipal cycling support in Birmingham.

December 17th – At Telford after a flying visit, overlooking the station towards the town centre, a remarkable sunset to close the bracket of the wonderful dawn.

It had been a long day. Inbetween the two, I’d spent a morning in Darlaston.

Every Christmas I swear I’ll take it easy in the run-up. Every year I fail to do so and end up in a mad rush. Will I ever learn?

Mind you, I’d have missed this wonderful sight…

December 16th – New Street, mid morning. These are not photos of the station pre-upgrade, but afterwards. Some of it may be improved later, but nothing shows the  shallowness of the turd-polish this project really was than this view; just a little away from a main route through the station, bare 60s concrete, dirty 80s cladding and ugly, dark structures. 

New Street looks stunning in press photos from the concourse, and from the streets nearby; but use it and you soon realise that the Emperor has no clothes and the station is still failing, still unpleasant and still unfit for purpose.

You can’t polish a turd, as the saying goes, but they have rolled this one in glitter.

December 11th – As the grey, damp days and dark nights wind on, it’s hard finding colour in the world, and it can be hard to keep this thing positive – but it’s not hard at all when you spot things as lovely as these polyanthus, recently planted at Telford station, which seem to be blooming just in time for Christmas.

I was making a flying visit at lunchtime, and the journey was long and fraught – but these cheered me on no end.

November 30th – Telford, early in the rain. Not quite fully light. The skeletal, brutalist 80s footbridge and covered walkway at the station is like some strange portal. Ghosts of people, further away than you think; exaggerated perspective and peculiarly yellow lighting.

An otherworldly, slightly unsettling place.

November 30th – New Street again, but early morning feelings rather than late night ones. Seven in the morning, steady rain, not yet clear of the night before.

Something about the light, machinery, wet urban surfaces, overhead wires and signals spoke quietly of urban strength, reassurance, safety, control. Alpha Tower in the distance stood as a fixing to location.

My feelings towards this place are ambivalent these days. But this morning, on the darkest and most miserable of days, something beautiful happened and it took my breath away.

It’s what Birmingham does, and I suspect has always done.

November 27th – Passing through New Street mid day, I was again struck by the contrast between the media hype of a reborn station, and the grim, badly maintained reality of the place itself. Those brick arches are probably the oldest remainder of the original station, and it wouldn’t surprise me were they to be Victorian. They should be made a feature, but they are decaying, stained and lie mostly unnoticed. Even some of the lights above them have given up.

Closer to the central area of the same platform, a gap in the above-platform construction lets the rain and wind howl in, concentrated and focussed by the angles and surfaces. No shiny cladding here, as it’s not outward facing. Just original 60s concrete and cheap white cladding.

A notice on the platform says ‘Mind the gap’ – the credibility gap is more hazardous.

November 19th – At the other end of a crowded journey, the barren beauty of Walsall Station at night from Platform 1. Vaguely brutal 70s red brick architecture, vanishing points, extreme perspective, lights, hard surfaces and a little rain.

It’s that late night feelings thing again.

You can keep your Grand Central new New Street. I’d rather have this, any day of the week.