Tag: yard

#365daysofbiking Classical gas

March 5th – The BOC plant in Wolverhampton isn’t the most photogenic of things  but it certainly seems interesting as I grabbed this sunset from a moving train on the way home.

The huge yard with thousands of canisters and metal bottles supplies industrial gases for everything from brewing to welding. It is massive, and a bit otherworldly if I’m honest.

The sunset looked gorgeous and mat a mundane, industrial thing appear like something from a science fiction film.

You don’t get that every day!

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#365daysofbiking Fruitless endeavours:

December 3rd – Spotted in the rain from the canal at Bentley Bridge: Ripe, delicious-looking eating apples rotting off the branches of the tree that fruited them, which is on a piece of edge land between two factory yards on the far side of the canal, both sites derelict. 

The tree and the ground out stands on appears unreachable to all except maybe those in a canoe or boat.

Which is a shame, as I bet the crop is lovely.

October 1st – In and around Hints church, the fungi is booming; most of these examples were spotted in God’s Acre itself, with some remarkable specimens growing undisturbed amongst the gravestones and memorials. I spent a happy half hour there, just seeing what I could find, all the time with the feeling I was being watched closely. 

Then the reason for my feeling of paranoia became clear – I was being watched by an elegant, snooty siamese cat from the edge of the graveyard!

March 21st – I noticed this lad hopping about the yard at work, looking for scraps of food and collecting nesting materials. I don’t see many sparrows at work, so I took a photo of him.

He likes this old cable drum so I’ve made it an impromptu feeding station – I only had a bit of stale fruitcake to put out today, but I’ll bring some seed and stuff tomorrow.

I like to see the birds in factory yards and around industrial estates, it’s a reminder that even in the most harsh of environments, nature is around us, doing it’s thing.

Just like Mr. Sparrow here.

October 15th – In a factory yard in the darkest Black Country, a temporarily misplaced young hunter peers hopefully from a bund wall at standing water. There might be the odd frog, I guess, but no fish in there, sir. 

He watched for a while, then, as if called, suddenly flew  away. He seemed to know exactly where he was going.

This is why I adore the Black Country.

July 14th – On my return, I needed to call on a pal in Newtown, so I headed up the canal past Ogley Junction. Whilst passing, I noticed a delivery of sectional piling and plant, and wondered if the Canal & River Trust had got it together to stabilise the slipping local embankments. 

I guess time will tell…

March 8th – On the former railway embankment that is now a cycle track, I stopped to survey the council depot at Pelsall Road. Slumbering in the evening, there was nobody around. This time last year, the gritting hoppers would have been on lorries and working hard. This year, they’ve barely been used at all. 

Let’s hope there’s no further call upon them until next winter…

December 29th – It all went a bit Pete Tong. I left home late – the weather had again been dismal – in the dark, and had somewhere to be, and very limited time. Bereft of inspiration, I headed up to the A5. The wind and drizzle were vile, truly vile, and then I realised I’d forgotten my camera. This left me with the task of attempting night photography, without a tripod I could use, on a phone camera. Great.

As it happened, it wasn’t too bad; I got reasonable results with the rail plant yard at Newtown, and some Christmas lights on a house near Deakin Avenue. Then home beckoned. I spotted the flood at the top of the Black Path too late. Wonderful.

Actually, huge parts of Holland Park were under water. Is this rain ever going to stop? I returned home, sodden and grim, cursing my forgetfulness.

July 9th – To be quite frank, I find this depressing. Finding myself in Tyseley again, I keep thinking about this sign. British Steel ceased to exist in 1999. I know Allen Rowland still exist in some form, but to me, this just symbolises the death of British industry. A fading sign for a long gone brand stood at the entrance to a half-derelict train yard, viewed from a decaying station. How very symbolic.