Tag: Walsall

June 3rd – I’ve often thought that one of the most attractive things in a person – male or female – is if they don’t realise just how attractive they are. As I’ve got older, I’ve begun to realise this applies to places too. 

One of the reasons Walsall is such a gem architecturally – and it is, despite the abuse of it’s more conventional historic assets – is that it doesn’t realise just what a wealth of diverse riches it has. Stop in any suburb or part of town. Look around. Somewhere, close by, there will be something remarkable – not necessarily beautiful, but always engaging. And the town as a whole doesn’t really know.

I came into Walsall from Aldridge and took a route through Highgate. This house caught my eye while I waited for a reversing driver to complete their manoeuvre – just study it; take it in. Possibly not at it’s best, but from the chimney pots down to the front wall the detail is incredible. A fantastic roofline and gables, and the detail in the window arches.

There are treats like this all over this town, and Walsall just doesn’t know about them.

May 7th – I rode back from Darlaston under the threat of rain, but took to the canal for a change. Coming through central Walsall, I stopped to look back at the sky, and remembered the Majorfax chimney, one of the last Victorian skyline landmarks walsall has outside it’s churches. There’s something curious about it that’s barely visible until you look closely.

Someone, at some point, has erected a modern, tubular flue inside the chimney – It’s rain-cowl can just be seen poking over the top. Why would you do that? 25 metres of pipe, in a confined space designed as a flue in the first place. Why not just fit a roof vent next to the stack?

Is it a real flue, or a steeplejack’s joke? Whatever it is, it’s a curiosity.

April 25th – This one’s for Trevor in Oz. You may miss life here when it’s sunny… but not on a went Friday afternoon.

A horrid ride. They guy soaking me in the last 10 seconds just clinched it.

The audio is the remarkable ‘Rain Dances’ by 1970s prog-jazzers Camel. Recording used at normal speed.

April 25th – Riding in the rain when the weather is warm isn’t that bad – once you’re wet, you’re wet and with waterproofs, that takes a good while. But after a week at work, when you’re tired, the light is poor and the traffic relentless, you just want to get home, have a shower, put something fresh on and have a decent cup of tea. 

These bike cam stills give a flavour of the journey. Like riding at night, it’s mentally very demanding, as there’s more stuff that you have to mentally process, and the traffic tends to be mad.

I was glad, If I’m honest, to get home.

April 25th – A dreadful commuting day, really, and not a great one at work, if I’m honest. I returned home late afternoon in a rainstorm. The rain was warm, though, and what wind there was seemed to be behind me. Coming from central Walsall after picking up some shopping, I crossed the Arboretum Junction, and whilst waiting at the lights, noticed the surface water problem here was getting worse. In heavy rain, the asphalt here doesn’t seem to shed water, and a 3-4mm  covering develops over the entire junction. I’ve never seen any road do this before, and must be a peculiarity of the surfacing.

It’s bad enough of a bicycle. Feel sure someone is going to aquaplane across here one day…

April 12th – I got a long ride in today, but the afternoon was dull and overcast and I hardly took any photos at all. I was just too busy, stoking the miles in. I left mid afternoon, and headed out via Stonnall, Canwell and Middleton, then on to the canal near Middleton Lakes. I headed into Birmingham against a fearsome headwind, along the canals of the city centre, then out via Smethwick, Great Bridge, Darlaston and back to Walsall. Picking up some shopping, I headed home early evening. It was a great ride – just about 50 miles in total. 

As I came over the Arboretum Junction, I took this from the stopline. Walsall looks gorgeous in the dusk.

April 11th – A great day up until 4pm, then all hell broke loose. I returned home late, and was doubly slain by two separate punctures. I didn’t mind too much though, as the air was warm, the sun was out and well, it could have been worse.

What better than daffodils to cheer you up? The displays this year on Walsall’s verges and greenspaces have been terrific. This patch in Shelfield has been particularly gorgeous.

My compliments and thanks to the people who plant and tend them. They cheered up one weary, beleaguered cyclist this evening.

April 8th – Another heron. I think the spring has brought them out – this one was near Bentley Bridge, stood watching the word go by from, ironically enough, a fishing peg. Older than the one I saw last Friday, and larger, he was a an impressive bird.

Can’t get enough herons – never saw them as a kid; they’re a sign of a healthy fish population, I’d tenure.

April 7th – I’d spotted a good sky in the offing, and hopped onto the old rail line at Coopers Bridge, then headed towards Ryders Mere. On the way, I spotted something I’d not noticed before; you can actually get a clear view of Walsall and the Black Country to Turners Hill at Rowley Regis from the old bridge at the rear of what used to be Binks Bullows. 

The sky was great, and I was fascinated – there are all the landmarks of Walsall, visible over Ryders Mere and Clayhanger Marsh. A great view.

It just goes to show – you can pass the same spot loads of times, and still notice something new.

April 4th – I’ve been struggling with my relationship with Walsall, and my memories of it, for a very long time now. I think seeing some of the places I loved burnt down, and others displaced by progress started it. I felt it was time I acknowledged it for once and for all.

I still love this surprising green, but ugly town. I love it’s unexpected beauty, I love its corners, twists and turns. I love the people, the frankness. I love the mixed cultures and the frontier mentality of a place thats both within and outside the Black Country.

I hate what time and my memory have done to it. But change is what happens to everyone, and I what I suspect I mourn isn’t Walsall, but the times I spent here.

St. Matthews is a handsome church in a commanding location, atop a hill that I’m convinced was once probably a fortification. A very large, ambitiously designed church, it’s almost too good for the place yet completely appropriate. Resplendent in yellow sandstone, it watches over the town below. For two centuries or more, it was surrounded by a sprawling slum; it’s now sitting in proud isolation with greenery and open space around. Time has been kinder to St. Matthews than one might think.

I used to come up here to think, and dream and wrestle with things that troubled me. I found the benchmark on the side of the church before I knew what it was for, and its image was persistent and perplexing. In those days, someone had written above it in neat chalked script, ‘I can’t come here anymore.’ I never knew what they meant. I do now, but the writing has long since washed away.

As I wandered around, remembering good times and bad, trying to make sense of what I felt. I looked to the skyline, to the towerblocks of Paddock, and at the flowers growing so beautifully wild in the churchyard. 

I remembered the words of the great, tortured and lost songwriter Doug Hopkins:

The last horizons I can see are filled with bars and factories 
And in them all we fight to stay awake… 
Drink enough of anything to make this world look new again 
Drunk drunk drunk in the gardens and the graves 

…

The last horizons I could see are now resigned to memories 
I never thought I’d still be here today… 

It dawned, gradually, that it’s about going away, and returning. Spiritually, I left this place a long, long time ago. I let Walsall go. It’s right, and natural, and what happens to us all. But I never thought I’d still be here.

And once you’ve left, although you can come back, you can’t go there anymore.

Relieved, but hurting, I got back on my bike, and rode home.