Tag: Walsall

August 10th – I know I shouldn’t, but I love anthropomorphising animals. Herons in particular remind me of eccentric old men, stood loafing, slightly absent mindedly fixing you with a gimlet eye.

This one was in Pleck, right at the back of the factories, stood on an overhanging bough, looking for breakfast. I love the expressiveness of his eyes.

Later, at James Bridge, the aggressive beggars – honking at me for food, hissing and swimming away in disgust when I presented them with no tasty morsel.

I honestly think to local wildlife is becoming more outspoken and opinionated.

August 4th – If you;re around Walsall and have half an hour to kill, I can recommend a walk or ride down the cycle route that follows the Ford Brook in Goscote Valley from The Butts to Pelsall.

At the moment the meadows and heaths around it are alive with colour – rose bay willow herb, ragwort, daisies and other meadow flowers form a carpet, and the metallic tang and bright pink-white show of the invasive himalayan balsam is remarkable.

This isn’t commonly thought to be a picturesque part of Walsall – but there is so much to see, including a buzzard being mobbed by crows as I cycled my way home.

July 27th – I awoke to a better day. It was warm again and the sun was shining sporadically. After the dismal unpleasantness of the previous day, this was refreshing and welcome, particularly as I’d expected a wet morning commute.

The dearth of traffic (due to the Industrial Fortnight) also made for a pleasant ride.

Passing the rowans in Pleck, I noticed their berries were plump and now bright orange. This pleased me.

Sometimes, like the berries, sun and warmth is all I need.

July 22nd – On an odd little side street, just off the main Walsall-Lichfield road, in the hinterland scrub between The Butts and Rushall, a remarkable display of feral roses.

Cartridge Lane South was orphaned years ago, and is mostly now just access to a dead-end housing development, and at the southernmost end, borders the allotments that mark the northernmost tip of The Butts. In the hedge there, some remarkable roses that seem to have been flowering for ages.

I wonder how many folk pass these every day without realising they’re there?

July 20th – A very dull day, and I was caught in the rain twice. Still, the rain was warm and the atmosphere hot and humid so it was quite pleasant when I was;t riding into it.

I notice in the last few weeks the buddleia has burst into flower. Known as the butterfly busy, the copious purple blooms are a boon for lepidoptera and other bugs, but due to the remarkable tenacity of the shrub, I’ll always view it as a the  harbinger of urban decay. Wherever there is dereliction, neglect or abandonment, Buddleia takes a hold, be it disused factories, rail lines or in issues in masonry. As it grows, it will pull brickwork apart and swamp all beneath it.

A remarkable plant.

July 7th – Another desperately dull day, with not many photo opportunities. Sadly, I took a bunch of photos on the way home, and messed the settings up, so the only ones I have to show are the from the cycleway in Goscote again this morning.

I note we’re in for a fruitful year; not only are the apples plentiful, but cherries seem to be having a fine time, and haws look to be good, too; if the blossom is anything to go by I think we’re in for a bumper crop of black and elder berries too.

I love the dog roses, smelling wonderful in the post-rain humid air, and the cornflowers look superb too, in their thistle like glory.

Some much great stuff going on in the hedgerows – and all on one short stretch of path in Goscote.

July 4th – Independence day, but sadly not from work. To my annoyance, called in on a fool’s errand at 12 noon, my plans for R&R were scuppered. However, taking the slow way back to Walsall, my weariness was cleared by the bright sun, azure sky and pleasant atmosphere.

Walsall has many faults and far too many detractors, but it’s not a bad old place.

July 3rd – I was wiped out. I’d had to sit on the floor all the way back from London, and my back was aching, and I hadn’t eaten enough – but New Street, for all it’s faults, welcomed me home with it’s hard surfaces and contrasting lights; and 30 minutes later, a real Late Night Feelings moment at Walsall.

Home is where the heart and teapot are. Oh, that first mug of tea!