Tag: urban

October 3rd – Bridgtown has my heart. I’m having a bit of a rough time right now, but had to nip to Great Wyrley on my way home, so took the chance to spin over to Sainsbury’s while I was there. That involved a shot through the backstreets of Bridgtown, the sleepy village-within-a-connurbation just off the A5. 

I adore the blue-diamond brick pavements, terraces and shops; it’s intimate, and proud street corner war memorial, and buried away behind the hideous modern hotel, wedged between terrace gable ends, a garden of remembrance I’d never noticed before.

It glowed in the golden hour, with ruby red rosehips, war mural and roses. It seems to have a rather proud caretaker, too. A lovely place.

October 2nd – The skies were dark and dusk was settling on Walsall when I came from work, tired and finding it hard to keep any speed up. I was loaded with shopping, and unwell, so it was a real drag; but as soon as I looked around me, I realised that I was entering the autumn dusk, and actually, it’s a thing of beauty.

I’m glad to note either my hands are steadier this year, or the camera is better in low light than previous ones, as none of these images was taken with a tripod.

The darkness isn’t all bad.

September 26th – Another great sky as I nipped down into Stonnall in the dying light. Coming back into Brownhills form Shire Oak, the view, as ever, surprised with it’s beauty.

The view down Shire Oak Hill to Brownhills is one of the best around here, but few ever seem to notice it. Yes, it’s urban, and not beautiful, really. But it has an interesting, busy urban charm I rather love – particularly at sundown, when the buildings catch the light and are rendered precious.

September 18th – Ah, Walsall. In how many ways do I love thee?

I spotted this a few weeks ago. At first glance, to the uninitiated, it’s quite shocking; an ornate front door to an everyday house bearing a carved swastika.

The swastika, though, has a millennia-old peaceful history before it was stolen by the National Socialists; it is a symbol recurrent in Sanskrit (where the name originates) and one of peace and good fortune to Hindus, Jains and Buddhists. Still in common use in defiance of the Nazi corruption of it’s peaceful meaning, the Hindu culture in particular is trying to reclaim it from being associated with evil.

This beautifully carved front door is laden with Hindu symbolism, including a representation of Ganesha, the elephant-like god of good fortune and artistic wisdom. The Swastika is used often in the front doors of Hindu houses to invite in Lakshmi, the god of love, prosperity and beauty.

Note also the front gate contains the legend Patel, a common Hindu surname. 

Walsall is a melting pot of cultures, peoples and trades. On a dull moring in Pleck, a beautiful thing blends into an otherwise unremarkable urban tapestry.

That’s why I love this place.

August 22nd – At the back of Brickyard Road in Aldridge is a small marina, home to a number of moored narrowboats. Today, the water was mirror-calm, and it makes for an unexpectedly pleasant sight in an otherwise very urban, scarred landscape. 

Admiring perfect waterlilies basking in the late summer sun, it’s hard to imaging this oasis of piece is wedged tightly between two landill sites, Europe’s largest toxic waste facility and a working marlpit.

There is beauty everywhere, if you look.

August 16th – This young grey heron was fishing in the canal, just by the old marketplace on Silver Street in Brownhills. You know, right by Tesco. On a Saturday afternoon.

I’ll let that sink in a bit.

I’d never have believed we’d see this kind of thing in Brownhills when I was a lad.

Hello, heron – I wish you an excellent day’s fishing.

August 6th – Riding back through Walsall on a warm summer evening, you realise this is the best time of year to see it; the trees around Hatherton Street, Lichfield Street and the poncily named ‘Civic Quarter’ are absolutely wonderful. People run Walsall down as being dirty, post-industrial and architecturally barren, but it’s one of the greenest pieces of urban landscape I’ve ever seen.

Beneath these trees, a town lives and breathes. 

If you don’t believe me, get somewhere high, like the New Art Gallery or St. Matthews steps on Church Hill, and look out. Walsall is a green oasis.

July 11th – Of all the little towns and villages of the Black Country, one of the places I’m fondest of is Great Bridge. Still bustling and busy, almost orphaned by the Black Country Spine Road, it survives almost in defiance of nearby out of town developments and larger town centres. 

It’s a place where it pays to look up. Lost above the shop fronts (which curiously often don’t alighn with the storey above), a remarkable stucco and ghost sign. 

Down a side street, one of the best Carribean meals you can find for miles around.