January 9th – Another way to tell you’re having a wet, warm winter: grass is growing in the mud down the centre of Thorneyhirst Lane. In January.
The mud and slurry were unbelievable, and they’d also just flailed the hedges so this route is probably best avoided for a few weeks.
January 9th – Out for a spin around Stonnall before the rains came again, I spotted another sign of the odd season. The sign announcing one’s entry to Stonnall out by the church has a planter at its base; in the planter, a variety of flowers are in bloom, including heather, ornamental daisies and primroses. I have no idea what the plant is with the orange, marble-sized fruits, but it looks familiar and is very attractive.
A nice dash of colour on a grey day – my compliments to the folk who tend these lovely village features.
January 8th – A rushed day in which I went to work, came back mid afternoon, did a couple of jobs at home, then had to dash here, there and everywhere on errands.
Sadly, in all the hubbub I failed to notice the camera was accidentally set in some awful scene mode and all my pictures came out horrid, except these.
I had to zip to Walsall Wood, then over to Shenstone, calling at Stonnall on the way back. The sunset was beautiful, and it felt like the air was warming up again.
The water, though: everywhere. Everything is saturated from all the rain. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a winter like this. I thought Christmas 2013 was wet, but it was nothing in comparison.
January 1st – This is… extraordinary. I came upon it out of pure, unbridled nosiness.
As you travel down the Chester Road from Shire Oak towards Stonnall, just within the boundary of Fishpond Wood and the old quarry, there’s a gated track.
As a kid, I was told there were cottages down there. Having seen a building on Google Earth, and occasionally seeing people pull out of the driveway, I paid it no mind.
But in recent weeks, there has been a pile of flytipped refuse in the track gateway, containing structural asbestos. I was wondering how the people here were accessing their house and if it was still lived in – I could vaguely remember seeing bins out for collection here, but not for a good while.
Passing the drive, I took a dive down there on my bike. It’s long, downhill, maybe ⅓ mile. With a large, derelict house at the end. A house once worth over half a million pounds.
It has clearly only been vacated in recent years, and is a rambling, oddly extended place with a wish-mash of extensions and levels, with one of the most bizarre fireplace arrangements i’ve ever seen. in it’s day it was clearly some place, but not now. Now, just vandalism, decay and eerie loneliness.
It turns out from subsequent research the place is owned by a developer, after the elderly couple who lived here vacated the place. Permission has been granted since 2013 to replace it with a large, new family home.
You can read about this, and some of the backstory in this Design & Access statement from the Lichfield Planning Department here.
Right now, it’s clearly a vandal magnet, and a target for flytippers.
A very curious thing indeed.
December 25th – A ride on Christmas morning is traditional, but rarely this much of a challenge. I left in steady rain as conditions were looking to brighten a little, and I rode fast on muddy, wet rounds around Stonnall, Footherley, Hilton and Lynn. The surface water was copious, and following the recent storms, there were mud and marbles everywhere.
Still, as I rode it dried out, and the absolute solitude was wonderful. You’ll rarely see the roads so peaceful.
Here’s to a break in this awful weather.
December 20th – These guys, outside the converted barn in Stonnall, win Christmas.
They are absolutely brilliant, down to the twig antlers and bauble noses.
My compliments to their creator.
Merry Christmas!
October 26th – British summertime ended this weekend, which means my evening commute is abruptly plunged into darkness, but for a short time at least, the opposing morning journey is in the light once more.
When I passed Grove Hill this morning, the sun was well up and with the green on the lower slopes and soft light, this could be a spring morning in April.
September 21st – I was being watched from a driveway in Lower Stonnall. An apparently elderly but gorgeous tortoiseshell was regarding me with some disdain, while her mate, a gorgeous and large blue-grey chap was taking care of security.
They didn’t like my sort. I wasn’t welcome. Mr. Grey yowled at me. I bid him good afternoon, and left them in contemplative silence.
September 21st – In the last few days, Autumn has kicked in and the leaves have started to turn. In a short journey through the backlanes of Stonnall, it was evident that the season was now irrefutably on her throne now and had her pot of gold pain at the ready.
Sad, but beautiful. No stopping the season’s wheel from turning, I guess.
September 5th – On the way back, I popped to the church at Stonnall, to have another look for the grave of an old acquaintance I knew was there, but had been unable to find for years. I finally found it – slightly neglected, lettering disappearing to the weather, but still there – and unguardedly, I fell into memories for a while.
Decades ago, we’d cycled these lanes together, and discovered places like this quiet churchyard. We weren’t huge pals, but we rode together fairly often, and shared the odd pint.
As I looked from the churchyard over Stonnall, the air had a scent of autumn, and the landscape concurred. I felt a little autumn inside, too.
Time and memory wears you like a stream polishes a pebble bed.
Stepping back into the light, I got on my bike, and rode home.
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