March 8th – At Telford, the piling for the footbridge project near the station is progressing apace, and the machinery in use is fascinating.
Holes are being bored, reinforcing assemblies being placed within and concrete pumped in. The depth of the bores is extraordinary, and an army of workers in orange wait for their moment to undertake their assigned tasks.
This is a hugely complex project which has surprised me – I can now see why it’s costing so much.
February 25th – A day of continual light snow and odd sunny periods, but it was again fiercely bitter.
Returning from Shenstone Station, I stopped to note than in the daylight at last, my commute revealed the twin church towers of Shenstone – one in use, one very much derelict.
Across the rooftops of the village, that’s a lovely sight and one that every year reminds me that although the weather may be bad, spring and warmth are on their way.
February 22nd – Passing through Telford on a flying visit in the morning, I noticed that the worksite for the new footbridge was oddly quiet. It seems test bores have been completed and are now being monitored for effects on the nearby built environment – including the railway itself.
Along the rails are mounted at intervals surveying datum targets which will be monitored – either manually, or by use of an automated theodolite – to see it recent operations are causing any movement.
A fascinating use of technology.
February 6th – On the corner of Gladstone and Station Street in the industrial backstreets of east Darlaston, a curious little bungalow cottage I’ve always wondered about.
Painted terracotta red with two tall chimneys, Victoria Cottage is an unusual house that doesn’t seem terribly large, but someone is awfully proud of. It has a plaque dating it to 1897, and it’s well cared for and the people who live here clearly love the place.
It looks almost like it was built as a project by someone, it’s such a curious shape. I’m sure there’s a bacstory here that must be fascinating.
Anyone know more?
February 1st – On my way back, the weather was more patchy, but changing trains at Aston midday, I thought of the great genius that was Nuala Hussey’s Stranded in Stechford (she lived for a while near the station) and of the incongruity of the Britannia Hotel, still with the great lady resplendent, enthroned on the roof, but no longer atop a hotel with dreams of majesty but a backstreet cafe.
Aston has changed since I was a teenager, exploring this place and the love I found near here. We drank in pubs long closed, and laughed and dreamed and made friends and argued and loved. We still do most of those things, of course, but Aston, like many places of my youth, is lost to me now. All of the faces I knew here except one have gone as I grow old, either lost, separated or drifted apart, but whenever I stand on these platforms, high above the sprawling morass below, I remember those days and it makes me sad.
Although I’m sad for the people I no longer see, I’m most sad for lost sense of belonging, and for my youth. But all through my life I’ve passed through places like this, made them mine for a while, then life took me to other places, with different horizons, and life moved on.
Aston is just a wind-blown, suburban and somewhat desolate railway station; two platforms and a junction. But there are ghosts here. And they haunt me so.
I felt old. But like my ghost, my spirit remains.
The train came, I hauled my bike onto it and I sat down.
‘Are you OK?’ asked a lady in the opposite seat.
Caught unaware, I wiped my eyes. ‘Just the wind I think’ I said, ineffectually.
‘It’s getting colder’ she replied. And offered me a tissue.
February 1st – I’d say February already? But it doesn’t seem like that. It’s been a hard, difficult, intemperate month I’m glad to see the back of it. But it is a shock we’re already a twelfth through 2018. But then, the first months of the year always go like that; a twelfth, a sixth, a quarter, a third. Such is the elegance of modulo 12.
Passing through Tyseley in the morning, with a surprisingly warm sun on my back, it was almost spring, with Easter primroses in the planters and a lovely feel to the city air.
Sadly, my joy is a little premature, but good while it lasts…
January 30th – Visiting Telford in the morning, the work on the new footbridge there is very serious now. A large continuous flight auger piling rig is drilling very deep piles to support the new structure, and concrete trucks line up to supply it as it works.
In front of the rig, the first pile is standing clear of the ground bounded by the blue sleeve, and on these solid foundations, the new bridge will stand.
Earth is being moved, surveyors measure the ground and excavators are busy. This is a project well underway know and will be worth keeping an eye on.
January 23rd – And, as welcome as a warm pair of slippers, I return to Shenstone in the dark.
The Canon again did some good stuff with the atmosphere here. I am adoring this little camera. Never thought I’d say that of this brand.
It was cold, and there was a strong headwind. But I was homeward bound, and Shenstone Station, like an old pal, is soothing in the darkness.
January 23rd – Tuesday. The cold is easing but my average speed is still lamentable. I’m feeling better, but still not well and the weather is… Challenging.
Returning from Birmingham in the 5pm dusk, at least New Street Station gave me some welcome late night feelings.
I’m improving. But a return to health and optimism can’t come soon enough.
December 12th – Telford was stunning too; from the station which looked like a winter wonderland, to the old bridge now with one of the ramps to the Staples store removed to the cycleways which were packed ice and easily navigated on the studded tyres.
Only problem was many of the laurel trees that line the paths were weighted down to breaking point with snow and were hard to get past.
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