One of my favourite places – Tame Valley Canal right next to Tame Bridge Parkway. So much space, with the canal up above the rail tracks and the M6 looming on the horizon.
Gentle 1 hour run, and the tow path wasn’t muddy at all which was a nice change.
August 8th – I snuck out of work early, and took the train back to Blake Street to enjoy the early evening countryside around Little Aston. Much as I salute the great success of British Cycling and the olympic team, the plastic Wigginses are out in force on their new bikes. I don’t mind them so much, just wish they’d return the greetings. That, and stop wearing yellow jerseys. They just make you look daft, frankly.
I got stuck in some distinctly rural traffic near Footherley. I noticed the farmer here cutting his hedges yesterday, near the top of Footherley Lane by the little bridge. Now he was doing Wood Lane and New Barns Lane. I found it a little concerning – hedge flailing isn’t usually done until Autumn, when birds aren’t nesting. However, watching the operation (I had no choice, I had a tractor behind me too) the driver had a very light touch, and was only trimming the excessive overgrowth caused by the wet summer.
I do wonder how the newcomers on their road bikes will fare on these now thorn-strewn lanes; my tyres are fairly hardy but those strips of liquorice the speedsters use are well vulnerable… hope you’ve all got repair kits in the back pockets of those champion jerseys…
August 6th – Back in Walsall Wood, near Jockey Meadows, the crop of beans I noticed a month or so ago have grown tall in the wet summer. There seems to be a decent crop of what appear to be broad beans, but the crop is sadly afflicted by blackfly and some kind of leaf blight.
I guess these will be for animal fodder, although they seemed tender and sweet in the unripe pod I cracked open.
August 6th – Over on my main blog, I’ve been giving much thought lately to the vexed question of Walsall, it’s disappearing architectural heritage, and the spate of arson attacks that are robbing our borough of it’s finest jewels. On my way back from Darlaston this afternoon, I stopped to ponder this great gem, the Walsall Union Workhouse Guardian’s Office, currently evens at William Hill for not making it past autumn. A lovely building allowed to rot, uncared for, and marooned in the middle of a new development, in this case the rebuild of the Manor Hospital. Surely, some use could have been found for this grand place? When Lichfield built their new hospital, the old buildings in front were retained and used for psychiatric services. Walsall doesn’t seem to possess the same vision.
Not half a mile further on, there stands the other end of the scale. Perhaps not architecturally significant, but socially, very much so. The Orange Tree pub – closed for some years now – has suffered at least two mysterious fires and is utterly wrecked internally. This once-thriving community meeting place is now silenced, and lost, like so many others. It can only be a matter of time until it too is razed to the ground. But how many folk, I wonder, have noticed its eclectic mix of chimneypots?
Please join the discussion.
August 4th – I spun up round the cycleway on the old railway, and at the old cement works bridge over the canal at The Slough, the heavens opened. I sheltered under the bridge for 20 minutes, then made a dash for home. The canal – like the town – was deserted save for the odd heron. As the sky above changed from a threatening black to a friendlier blue and sunset red, it lit Brownhills up in the most wonderful, cinematic fashion.
Man, I love this place.
August 4th – Barely time for a ride today, but I snatched one in the dying light of the evening. It was a grim evening, and we’d had heavy rainstorms throughout the afternoon. The sky was alternately light and dark, threatening another deluge with bands of bright blue coming through. At Coppice Lane, the small, automated pumping station in Birch Coppice was clearly swamped and unable to cope; the access hatch in front had water gushing up through it. It was flowing back down the lane and forming a large flood.The weather this summer really has been lousy.
August 3rd – Chasewater was as stunning as ever, and I thought I’d do another level update for @xswardy, who’s desperate to get back to waterskiing here. I can’t get over how much things are improving. There are no longer separate pools, and the level is only about half a metre from the bottom of the gauge on the pier. Trouble is now, with every added centimetre, the volume to fill is increasing hugely. Whilst the north of the lakebed is filling up, the shallows here are massive and will take a lot of rain to fill. Still, it’s going much better than expected.
August 4th – Up at Chasewater, a cracking example of why the authorities need to sort out the anti-traffic barrier halfway across the dam at Pool Lane. Formerly consisting of plastic barrels filled with concrete, they have now been destroyed. Result? Yesterday, this car was actually parked off the road, on the site of special scientific interest that surrounds the 9-foot pool. Why? Because the owners were too bone idle to park the vehicle in the proper car park and walk a little. This needs sorting.
August 4th – I pottered up the canal to Chasewater, the end destination being Morrisons to get some shopping in. On the way the weather was temperate, and pleasant, but generally dull. Passing through Anglesey Wharf, we stopped to admire the flowers, which all seem to be showing in late summer purples now. Willowherbs, buddleia, heathers, even some kind of sweat pea (I think) as Alice Walker said ’…just trying to get noticed..’. I reflected on what the old familiars of this place, the coal-loaders, miners and boatmen would make of this scene now; the peace and quiet, rabbits lazing on the heath and grasses and shrubs dotting the former wharf. Once this was a humming, filthy coal depot. Some things are decidedly changes for the better.
August 3rd – Rounding the bend at Footherley Lane, a gap in the fence around the derelict and decaying Keeper’s Cottage snagged my attention. I didn’t want to be late home, but it was nice to stand inside the grounds and get a different angle on the place.
The fact that this once proud and cosy home is now being carried to dust is a scandal. The house has been derelict for well over 30 years – certainly as long as I can remember, and childhood memories of this sad, collapsing cottage can be found in Susan Marie Ward’s recollections.
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