Galleries

October 19th – The refilling of Chasewater has been very swift and remarkable. Saved by a very, very wet season, it occurred to me today looking at the new outfall arrangement that there’s only a shade over a metre to go until the reservoir is full and flowing into the Nine-Foot. Of course, there’s a huge increase in area to cover in that metre, so it won’t be quick. On the 30th of September the level was just off the 148.35m AOD start level of the scale, maked ‘9’. Today, it’s at 6.5. Since the scale is marked in decimetres, that’s a 250mm rise in 19 days to approximately 148.6m AOD. That’s incredible.

It’s nice to see healthy birdlife return, too. Long time since I’ve seen a heron loafing on the waterski jetty.

October 19th – Working from home today, I spun out late afternoon on errands and to get some shopping. It was misty and grey, but all the same, I headed to Chasewater to check out the levels. It was pretty deserted at 5pm, and the boating lake was a peaceful soup of wildfowl, who flocked around me hoping I had food. The sheer variety in the duck population – domestic, blended with mallard, crossed with tufted ad infinitum – was fascinating. Ducks will mate with just about anything they can, and the diversity here is illuminating. 

I see the domestic white geese are still terrorising visitors, too, the aggressive devils. Goose bills are the stuff of nightmares, eh? Look at all those serrations…

October 18th – For the first time in ages, I was in Darlaston. I also had to pop into Brownhills on my way, so I pottered up to Pelsall and on to Walsall via NCN 5 – the National Cycle Route. It was a lovely ride to work, but the southerly headwind was a tad sharp for my liking. I guess readers must be getting fed up of the cliched autumn pictures by now, but today, my beloved Black Country looked gorgeous. Escaping early, I popped into the Arboretum at Walsall to check out the colour. At 4pm, it was all but deserted, which I found surprising. It really is lovely there. Get up there before it’s too late…

17th October – A frantic day. Last minute trip to Leicester for a meeting, then had to zip back to Tyseley for another. In between the two, I found myself at Snow Hill Station, in Birmingham. I was fascinated to spot the abseiling window cleaners were doing their urban acrobatics at the new office blocks nearby. I take my hat off to these men – they have total faith in their equipment, it must be cold and draughty up there. Not much room for error. The casual way in which they pause to share a joke and chat, whilst dangling in front of an office block is astounding, captivating and impressive.

October 16th – It’s all about the autumn colour right now. I was going to split these images down into two separate posts, but they’re all the same set, really. It’s been gusty and chilly, and the leaves have really started to fall now. I noticed council workmen sweeping them up in Acocks Green, and they’re turning even the most mundane alleyways into emerald gold arcades. How fantastic is autumn? Beautiful – but winter is such a price to pay…

October 15th – One of the things about riding a bike is that you get to study vehicles in a way that most folk don’t. I’ve spent large amounts of time behind cars, wondering how the  bodywork was fitted together, of behind weird and wonderful lorries, working out just what everything on them does. It was while I was waiting in the queue at the Shire Oak junction today that I noticed this interesting feature on a tipper lorry. Tucked in the back, below the main body, is a camera and light, clearly for reversing purposes. It must be a fairly common feature, but I’d not noticed one before – presumably, it’s monitored by the driver. Only snag is, there’s no automatic lens cleaning, and it must get pretty mucky under there. Wonder if the driver was munching on a Yorkie and watching me whilst he waited?

October 14th – The fungi seems to be doing well, too. This is possibly the most perfect specimen of fly agaric I’ve ever seen. This is the classic, spotty toadstool of fairy tales, and is considered toxic, and possibly hallucinogenic. This proud fellow was growing beneath silver birches, as they often do, in a front garden in Hilton, near Wall. The second one is a mystery to me: I know not what it is, but it’s massive. A foot in diameter, the stalk is thicker than my forearm. It’s clearly quite aged, and seems to be host to several sorts of insect. It was growing on a verge in Summerhill. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a large toadstool.

October 14th – At the junction of Woodhouses Road and Lichfield Road at Edial, near Burntwood, there’s an imperious horse chestnut tree, and this season it has fruited in abundance. I have never seen so many conkers littering the ground. I mentioned my love of the brown, shiny nuts a week or so ago. I just had to stop and take a few home. Just instinct.

October 13th – As if to hammer home my point, Town Wharf, across the basin from the New Art Gallery. This is a new hotel. It looks like something thrown up in Tito’s Yugoslavia. It’s hideous, cheap and nasty. It opens in a couple of weeks – why not come and stay? Affording excellent views of the derelict and burnt out factory over the water, it’s sure to be a big tourist draw…

Walsall deserves so much better than this shit.

October 13th – My town, for better or worse.

I have a strange relationship with Walsall these days. Pass through it regularly, love almost all of it, but bits I used to know like the back of my hand are now alien to me. Certainly, shopping there is a grim experience these days. I was in town anyway, and wanted to see the Damien Hirst exhibition at the New Art Gallery. I like Hirst a lot, but the exhibition left me cold – I really wanted to see stuff like Mother and Child Divided again, yet what was here seemed to be the odds and ends of the artist’s work. The way it had been mixed in with the Garman Ryan collection was clever, though, and I did admire the guile of the people responsible for doing that, particularly the placement of the wallpaper.

I hadn’t been in the Gallery for a long while, and not on the roof terrace since the building opened a decade before, as when I’d visited, it had always been shut. Today, it was open, and I took photographs of my town – the place I once haunted like a skinny, music-obsessed ghost. I knew every shop, every bar, every alleyway, every cafe. Yet getting older dragged me away, and Walsall befell the same fate as other such post-industrial towns; ravaged by the inexorable rise of out-of-town and fringe retail developments, atrocious town planning and the encroachment of internet shopping,  it now holds little for me. The independent shops have gone, replaced by nail-bars, hairdressers, pound shops and money lenders. Many of the heritage buildings I could see from this view ten years ago are gone, lost to the arsonists that seem intent on depriving us of a cultural past. The bad planning goes on, the retail sheds obscuring or wrecking formerly decent vistas.

I still love this place with all my heart – as Bill Caddick put it, ‘Sore abused, but not yet dead’, but I fear I’m losing it forever. What’s gone, cannot be put pack, and there just doesn’t seem to be the breadth of vision, or cast of hand to build something new. Stuck in a kind of decay-limbo. I could cry.

I did what I always do at times when Walsall, and my past, makes me feel like this: I got back on my bike, cycled up to Caldmore, and reminded myself what community was about.

That’s my Walsall, right there.