Tag: Walsall

March 7th – Today was grim. The commuting weather was as miserable as it gets. It felt quite warm, but there was a persistent rain of the kind that hunted out the gap between collar and neck, or any slightly-open zip. The traffic was mental, and everything seemed to be functioning half-asleep. 

Coming home from Walsall Station, I noticed the taxi rank at the side of the station seemed to be afflicted by the wet-day madness, and I found myself waiting at the lights at Rushall Square, stoically bracing for some idiot to cut me up.

I’m sure there’s valuable research to be done on why many drivers brains turn to porridge in wet weather. A real puzzler.

February 28th – I mentioned last week (at least, I think it was last week…) that Walsall has some really interesting architecture above street level. Making it back to Walsall in the daylight, I took a quick scoot around. Chineys, on Park Street – when did they last see smoke? The mosaics, still on the front of the former Priory Hotel. Crests, cupolas and cornices. The Edwars Moore building is beautiful from the front, in Leicester Street (look at the upstairs windows), but equally so from the rear. There’s fantastic detail in those chimneys. Yet the building is scarcely noticed.

Walsall still has some gems.

February 19th – A couple of snatched, quick photos in Walsall this evening, proving why we should always look up, especially in towns. Stood outside of the Saddlers Centre in Park Street, I was putting on my gloves, and idly studying the roof-line. Never notices the balustrade around the very top of WH Smiths, or the lion head corbel on the building next door, which has some very handsome windows.

I think it’s time to go exploring…

February 18th – In Lower Forster Street, Walsall, there’s a quiet revolution firing up. The Backyard Brewhouse – one of two microbreweries in Brownhills – has bought this closed pub, The Fountain, and reopened it again. By all accounts, it’s a fine house.

It’s an interesting, old-style back-street boozer, sadly surrounded by the remnants of the Jabez-Cliff building, but none the less lovely for that. There are few enough real ale houses left these days, so it’s a real pleasure to see a new one – especially when it’s selling good, local, Brownhills-brewed ale.

I wish the folks behind TheBackyard Brewhouse the best of luck in their venture.

February 6th – At the other end of the day, at Walsall, delightfully in the half-light at 5:30pm, the sunset was beautiful, and it was dry. I loved the lights, and the sky, and yet again, the exaggerated vanishing point the elongated geometry formed.

I don’t know where my love of railways at night comes from. It’s not about trains, or the experience of travel. But the light, the signals, the dark and the interaction of machinery and landscape. The windy sweep of trains passing through, and often the solitude. I think it’s from my childhood but can’t place why, exactly.

Back in the 1970s there was a record label called Late Night Feelings. One of it’s logos was a beautiful, childlike crayon drawing of the then new Intercity 125 speeding through a darkened station at night, with a pair of children watching on the platform. That’s exactly how I feel.

A mystery.

January 30th – Another sign of the season’s wheel inexorably rotating came to my attention tonight. Stopping to attend to a sticking gear cable in Shelfield, on the corner of the verge, just under a hedgerow, something is stirring. Quietly, determinedly, a yellow army is emerging. Using only the power of cellular hydraulic action and the mystical imperative for growth, some celestial trigger has kickstarted spring. Soon, the foot solders will be amongst us, bright, yellow and beautiful.

It’s started now. There’s no going back. This makes me very happy indeed.

January 26th – Had a wry laugh at this one. Noticed yesterday that the sign was still up trumpeting the new Pier Street footbridge, over the canal in central Brownhills. The bridge is a fine thing indeed, linking as it does Clayhanger and Brownhills in style, replacing a steep-stepped footbridge that was awful, frankly.

I was unaware of Walsall Council’s ‘Drive to regenerate Brownhills District Centre’ – wonder how that’s going?

Would the last business to leave the town please switch the lights off and feed the deer? Cheers.

January 25th – This is one that’s been annoying me all week, but haven’t managed to catch well on video until Friday night at Rushall Square junction. As well as seeing moppets driving around peering out of a small aperture in an otherwise frosted up windscreen, the failure to clean snow from your roof is lazy and dangerous. Three times this week I’ve been overtaken by people – all three in Little Aston, as it happened – who, with the burst of speed – cleared snow of their roofs into me or my path. At 20MPH it’s not funny.

It’s also against the law. When it snows again, be a treasure and wipe the snow from your roof, eh?

January 20th – People seem to have their own realities, and nothing has brought out the selfishness and plain nastiness in some people as profoundly as the bad weather.

Ever since the snow came, people have been complaining about, and to, Walsall Council on social media. Horrified that they’ve been delayed, or that driving conditions are bad, they attack the local authority for not gritting, for being unprepared, or lazy. Time and time again I have seen people berate council employees because things aren’t as they expect and that’s what they apparently pay council tax for.

Sadly, the truth is a little more difficult. As a cyclist, I travel slowly. I intersect with gritters on the roads with startling (and often painful) frequency, because they move about twice as fast as me. I have seen them around Brownhills and on all major routes I use frequently, since just before the cold snap started. They have spread whatever the conditions, and pretty much continuously over the weekend. That’s good folk, working hard, in very difficult road conditions, to try and ameliorate the problems caused by the snow.

There is clearly a fundamental misunderstanding about how roadsalt works. It can take hours or even days to take effect, and relies on moisture and the passage of traffic to disperse it. Temperature severely affects it’s efficacy. It cannot deal with fast settling snow. A gritted road may take 24 hours to clear properly, even with continuous application. Road salt is not fairy dust. It doesn’t magically remove ice and snow. It’s a deicer, a slow one, and it’s an aid, not a total solution.

Walsall’s gritting operation costs each household about £2.50 per year.

The thing about using the roads in bad weather is to develop, and hone the skills required. It’s our responsibility to ensure we’re as safe as possible. We can’t abrogate that responsibility totally to a third party just because it snows. The man I watched slide round a corner into a kerb in Little Aston on Friday Morning probably now understands this. A £60,000 Range Rover is only as good as the driver’s skills.

Walsall Council does many things badly. Some things, a few, it does really well. They’ve always been among the best at gritting, and have worked hard to communicate their activities on social media. When met with abuse, petulance or idiocy, the public facing employees have been stoical, polite and workmanlike, often in unpaid, out of hours time.

When I see people being stupid, unpleasant or misguided on this, I will always step in to defend the council and it’s employees wherever I can. So far this weekend I’ve had hate mail, nearly had my Facebook account pulled in an infantile spite attack and been roundly abused by a noted local journalist. None of these people have shown a shred of humility towards those who are actually charged with the job they are expecting to be done.

There’s a widely held belief that gritters are not being sent out; that roads have gone untreated. That the powers that be cannot grit every inch of every road has been met with incredulity. It seems beyond many that the weather currently has control, and whilst we can mitigate it’s effects, nobody can actually make it go away.

This afternoon, at 4pm, on Anchor Bridge, I was passed by the grittier that, on social media 3 hours later, Walsall were being attacked for not sending to treat Brownhills High Street. Further down the road, at Silver Court, a team of council workmen had cleared the snow by hand from the frontage and steps, and then gritted it. At the other end of Brownhills, lorries were returning to the depot for refilling, before leaving again in series. 

Meanwhile, people are fretting on Facebook already as to weather their bins will be emptied tomorrow. As far as I’m aware, nobody has died in Walsall yet for the want of an empty dustbin. 

It’s bad weather, folks. We used to get it a lot. It’s not the end of days. The mark of humanity should be be grace under pressure, from all of us. Not just those there to serve us. 

January 4th – There was a bit of a psychological barrier I had to cross: I wanted to still do this, but I think I’d mentally prepared myself to stop; so like slowing down on a bike as you reach the bottom of a hill, you’re robbed of momentum and it takes you a while to build it back up. I found it hard to take pictures. This I know, will pass; I’ve had it before. It’s like I’m trying to deny myself something.

I reflected on this whilst stopped at the lights coming from Walsall that evening. The nights already seem to be opening out, and I had hat feeling that Christmas was way behind. But two days of work had left me strangely enervated. Life is odd sometimes. When the lights changed, I just hunched over and went for it. 

Sometimes, that’s the only thing to do.