November 8th – In and out of work early as I had a medical thing to get sorted, but needed to sign some paperwork. In total contrast to the day before, it was sunny, and with the sun on the back, a pleasing hint of a summer now passed.
Station Street in Darlaston is always interesting when the sun shines on it: usually in shadow from the tall, ageing factories, it really does demonstrate the sunny side of the street.
I was in the shade today, but it would be brighter, later.
October 30th – On my return, I popped into Kings Hill Park since it was such a beautiful afternoon. There was nobody around, peace reigned – apart from the normal industrial sounds of Darlaston living and breathing, which is a sort of background music to me now – and the only activity was from Mrs. Squirrel here, checking me out for food.
Sore from the hospital and feeling weary after the ride, I sat and thought, had a snack and something to drink, and gently recharged in my nowhere garden.
The park looks even better in it’s current cloak of autumn, with beautiful flowers still in bloom and the leaves turning so prettily.
This is one of the gems of the Black Country, yet what tour guide ever mentions Kings Hill Park? What guidebook ever dared to breathe the name?
This is just our peaceful, beautiful secret. And I love it so.
October 30th – Not a bad day for a Monday. I had to nip to a hospital appointment at lunchtime, so left work and cycled along a sun-dappled, peaceful canal to the centre of Walsall. Turning to leave the canal and ride on to Bridgman Street, I looked at the Town Arm Junction.
This place has changed beyond recognition in my lifetime. When I was a nipper it was grimy, surrounded by blackened, semi derelict factories; there was little wildlife and the waters were nothing more than a polluted stew.
Not all change is for the worse.
October 28th – A busy day, and I returned at dusk through Chasewater – where the deer were still loafing on the Rugby pitch and seem to have taken up permanent residence. This is remarkable, and not 20 yards away, the clubhouse was as active and noisy ars a busy social club can be, and the deer clearly weren’t bothered at all. The ability of red deer to integrate seamlessly into urbanity is astonishing.
The sunset on the canal, returning to Brownhills, was also beautiful, but dramatic, and the wind was biting. It was good to be near home.
October 25th – Pleasingly, I escaped work in daylight, so took the chance to spin along the canal home. On the embankment at Pleck, the fly agaric are dying off now, after yet another spectacular display – but one or two good examples remain, like this huge one.
I have no idea what’s so favourable for these most traditional of toadstools, but there’s a huge quantity grow here. Right in the urban heart of Walsall.
You never can tell.
October 22nd – A quick run up to Aldridge in the early afternoon reqarded me with great autumnal views and a surprise – almost submerged in dense thicket by the old railway bridge at Stubbers Green, what I think is an evening primrose, in strident yellow bloom.
I don’t know if this is normal at this time of year or an aberration, but it is rather beautiful and a lovely autumn find.
October 20th – And in the green heaven of Kings Hill Park, where clearly busy people tend the flowers unseen to me, a bright, colourful reminder that the beauty isn’t over yet.
Spotted with raindrops, battered by the wind, these planters are still absolutely gorgeous and remind me of why I love the outdoors and why I appreciate this town and it’s hidden, lovely spaces.
I’m BrownhillsBob, not DarloDave. But for a twist of fate, I could have been – and would have been proud to be so.
October 20th – In to work early, and on a morning of patchy rain and light, fast sunny spells, two pauses in my hurried journey at Victoria Park and Kings Hill Park, both looking absolutely gorgeous in their autumn jackets.
Darlaston is a grubby, grimy industrial Black Country town – and is everything the Black Country is; busy, historic, full of hidden beauty under an ostensibly ugly exterior, charming, real and a great place to be. And like the wider Black Country, it’s full of green parks and open spaces where the hurried traveller can catch a breath, sip his tea and think about the day to come.
October 13th – Chester is always a delight from the cormorants loafing on the Dee like old men on a park bench to the chimneys and remarkably diverse architectural threads, and in autumn, it’s amplified, particularly on a day with such dramatic skies.
I love the central shopping area with the ‘rows’ – upper tier walkways, bridges and balconies that weave and dodge, reminding you of Pratchet’s Ankh Morpork.
A great afternoon.
October 13th – I had a morning meeting near Middlewich, Cheshire and after the customary John Wyndham/Cuckoo jokes, drove up with a colleague with my bike in the car. Finished at Lunchtime, I rode to Chester for an afternoon exploring.
I used to come here a lot when I was younger, but hadn’t been for years. It’s still a fantastic place – the walled central city with the mixed architecture and the amazingly intact wall linking everything together.
I took time to go see a house I’d admired for years. Just look at the details here – even the open balconies between bays,
A fabulous afternoon.
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