Galleries

November 15th – It had been a long day, the energy was low, and I didn’t have much time. I spun up the High Street at teatime and rode the backstreets for a bit. Returning, I looked at something thats so familiar, I rarely pay it much attention: Morris, the Brownhills Miner. Much as I feel uncomfortable with the extravagance in a faltering town, I do love him. John McKenna’s work in drafting all those fragments, then welding them together in a finite-element model like this is stunning, and always has been. So much better than the laser cut by numbers tat in Walsall Wood, this took a really skilled artist a huge amount of time to design, facilitate and build. I just wish the blue lights didn’t make it look so cheap.

Morris is such an obvious and cliched subject, I’ve only rarely featured him here, but it’s worth it, once in a while, just to share him. The politics and cost aside, it’s a terrific thing.

November 14th – Now winter darkness is upon me, that Late Night Feelings thing is haunting me once again. I pitched up at Tyseley station this evening on the threshold between day and night, and all it took between the two was the journey downstairs to the platform.

The lights, the skyline, the signals. Bright, warming, steady, reassuring, control. The glistening, ever-crossing parabolas of the rails; the ever present shadow of the incinerator, innocuously operating unnoticed in the dry warm air of summer, but now with it’s dirty secrets revealed into the chill air in the form of a plume of steam.

Cityscape, geometry, light. Can’t stop the fascination, I really can’t. 

November 14th – I spotted this interesting – if slightly bizarre – fixie locked to the railings outside Moor Street Station. That’s actually a really nice frame, and is quite old, although I think something’s been done to the bottom bracket looking at the dark marks on the frame. I didn’t look at the time, as I never noticed. I wished I had. 

That’s a great set of wheels, and quite a high gear ratio, but the chain needs an oil and retension.

What’s with the ball-crushing saddle angle? And the oh-shit! brake lever is front-acting, but mounted left handed, USA style. Note the way narrow bars, too. 

This is the steed of a serious hipster. Fascinating.

December 13th – Further along the canal,I played again with night photography. Interesting that the lack of moonlight tonight made for such grainy images, but I like them, all the same. I hated it at first, but I’m quite getting to like the ghost-flats in Brownhills. The colour comes alive at night. 

November 12th – Meanwhile, at the other Oak Park, something is happening. The 70s recreation centre and sports ground is up for a rebuild, and I’m hoping that should it happen, the council might be able to renovate the old park adjacent. All around the grounds of the leisure centre there are surveyor’s marks on the tarmac, highlighting measurements, cables and pipes. Meanwhile, on the football pitches, a small drilling machine was boring test holes to measure ground conditions. This plan is clearly serious.

Meanwhile, the row of ornamental cherry trees on the east side of the site rain golden beauty on the Brownhills road. Hope they can be preserved in any new development; they’re lovely.

November 11th – I think the rain made this, in a funny kind of way. When I came past the war memorial in Darlaston, it was raining quite heavily, but the statue, wreaths and tributes positively glowed in the murk. It looks like Darlaston did it’s fallen proud. So touching, and beautiful, it was a great sight on a wet, grey monday morning.

A few minutes later in the town, I saw the regular street sweeper cheerfully litter picking in the rain. Just as I passed, a lady from a local shop shouted to him, and came out with a cup of tea for him, and praised him for his hard work.

Life here, distilled. I love this place.

November 11th – The weather is stuck in repeat. A lousy, wet and heart-in-mouth commute to Darlaston, and I hopped onto the canal as soon as I could. The roads were mad today, really, truly awful.

The rain varied between a light drizzle and very heavy, and  was again glad of good waterproofs. Twice I stopped for shelter under bridges. The autumn colour is gorgeous, but I’d love to see a bit more of yesterday’s sun rather than this endless rain we seem to be cursed with tis last couple of weeks.

November 10th – Remembrance. I called in at Hopwas to get a shot of the War Memorial here (there is none at Wall, to my surprise). It was darkening as I arrived, and having forgotten my tripod, I struggled. But this is a beautiful building and a delightful place, especially on an autumn evening. 

Hopwas is the most curious, lovely church in all of Staffordshire. There, I said it.Yet what gazetteer or guide breathes it’s name? Who ever mentions this delightful country church?

Sitting in the shadow of Hopwas Hays Wood, high on the hillside, it gives the air of a country farmhouse, with white and timber gables, chimney and leaded pocket windows. Built in 1881 and designed by John Douglas of Cheshire, it’s a building that, to the best of my knowledge, is unique, and in a beautiful spot.

I was glad to see a wreath from the local Scouts, and several crosses. This is a fine place to be remembered.

November 10th – I was still tired, and it took me a long time to get moving, but it was a gorgeous afternoon. I headed to Hopwas Hays Wood, again to test my mettle on the downhill there that fascinates me. On the way through, I stopped at Wall in a gorgeous golden hour. I studied for the first time the new milepost erected there in 2012. It’s an impressive thing, but like a lot of statuary these days, it’s so inoffensive, I don’t really see the point; commemorating the Queen as it does, it’s neither historically accurate or informative, but the carving is lovely. On the post’s crown, a last ladybird seemed to be enjoying the sun. I hope it found somewhere decent to hibernate. 

The real star of Wall for me is not Roman but Victorian – the church, with it’s gorgeous, well-kept terraced churchyard. It’s always peaceful here, and the golden light rendered the light Sandstone church and all else it touched golden.