Galleries

February 24th – I took plenty of photos in the morning, as it was another wonderful morning – but sadly, I left the camera in the wrong mode and they were all awful. Luckily, I realised my mistake, and returning from Walsall at 7pm, I took some shots of a peculiarly deserted town. This seemed odd to me; when I was a youth, the euphemistically branded ‘nightime economy’ was normally well underway by this time, but it seems not to be the case now. Few were at the bus stands, and few outside the bars and pubs. Bridge Street was deserted, and the town hall looked imperious in the street light. An odd end to an oddly draining week.

February 23rd – On my way to work on a sunny, warm summer- sorry, February day, I was in shirtsleeves. Taking the scenic route through Kings Hill Park in Darlaston, the spring flowers were just crying out for attention. As was a wee ladybird, sunning itself. 2012 certainly is running the whole gamut of weather, that’s for sure…

February 22nd – After a thoroughly awful day at work, I disembarked from the train at Walsall to find myself travelling home through a soft, pervasive drizzle. The town was looking particularly down-at-heel in the dusk, although, it has to be said, twilight at 5:45 is a wonderful thing right now. Walsall has never been blessed with architectural complexity, and on days like this, it really, really shows. I love this place with all my heart, but by jove, it’s very hard to on days like this…

February 20th – It had been a long time since I’d explored the old part of Wednesbury, and it still retains its old character. The steep alleys steps were still worn, and the handrail shiny with use. It was a really grey, overcast day, a far cry from the day before, but the views and rolling urban landscape as fascinating as ever. I like Wednesbury. Not as much as Darlaston, but Wednesbury always feels out of time and place. It may not be handsome, but it’s full of interesting stuff.

February 20th – Wednesbury has a life-size, fake windmill, and not many people know about it. I have no information on the edifice, or its origins, other that in sits in a garden near the top of Church Hill in the centre of town, is only about a decade old and exists as a kind of modern folly as far as I can tell. I investigated it today – I spotted it a good few years ago, but I had to go to Great Bridge today and had time to spare, so thought I’d go hunting. More on the main blog in the next few days.

You can’t actually get close to it – it’s in the garden of a remarkably ornate, somewhat architecturally eccentric house, and is only really visible in winter when there are no leaves on the trees. I’m told the owners don’t welcome enquiries, and the property is shut behind very tall, secure gates. Anybody have any more information? 

February 18th – Down at the junction of Barracks Lane and Lichfield Road, in Brownhills, not far from where the Staffordshire Hoard was found, there’s a filed of horses, which I think belong to nearby Warrenhouse Farm. At the entrance to this field, I spotted this two delightful patches of snowdrops in the hedgerow. Beautiful and delicate, yet somehow hardy, they are a marker, a signal. THeir appearance means that spring cannot be far away…

February 17th – Riding down into Stonnall from Brownhills for a change, just to stretch the legs a little at dusk, I stopped to take in the view from the entry to Shire Oak landfill – what used to be Sandhills quarry. Watching the lights come on over this landscape is always captivating. I could waste hours here, watching the light change and daylight pass into evening. It’s sad that the view – which is excellent – doesn’t lend itself terribly well to photography.

February 17th – I’ve no idea what’s going on here. This building, sat halfway along Lindon Road, Brownhills, was once a gent’s barbers. Latterly workshop of Maurice Baker, genius but grumpy engineer, it was converted back into a house in the mid-80’s. I’m unsure what the joke is or was, but whoever restored the building embedded the tail fin of a bomb into the gable wall just below the eaves. Originally painted red, it has fascinated me for years. There is, as far as I can tell, no record of the property being bombed. Anyone got any idea what it’s about?

The house has since been converted to flats and is in some disrepair. I’d love to know what this distinctly Brownhillian bit of wit is all about.

February 16th – Another odd feature of Brownhills (or at least, Brownhills West) is that we have – or had, until it was purloined by Shugborough – the oldest signpost in the country, allegedly. This wooden fingerpost is a modern replica, itself in a sorry state. The plaque at it’s foot tells the story. Until about 4 years ago, I had no idea this existed, and I found it by accident. I wonder what other surprises are lurking, yet to be found?

It actually says (to the east) ‘To Lichfield 5 miles, Tamworth 11 miles, Atherstone 17 miles’ and to the west ‘To Chester 61 miles, Newport 21 miles, Salop 35 miles’ and on the post ‘1777’ – I’d actually debate it being the oldest, but there you go…