Platinum Jubilee in West Bromwich

Jubilee Fever hits the West Midlands

The Queen’s party was what we expected. American press will have shown Americans videos of a selection of Royalist twats and made it sound like everyone here feels happy and, frankly, blessed that we have a monarch. Here’s what you actually see on the ground.

West Brom went all out by actually cleaning up the empty beer cans, half eaten kebabs, and puke Wednesday night. Not a sign of any celebratory decorations from the council were anywhere to be seen.

First ones I found were the flags in the Hop Pole. Later, we spotted the betting shop across the way all tarted up.

The backwards N and the missing second E made the healthy fast food place festive:

Decoron, where we get most of our paint, went with wallpapered corgis:

No one really begrudges the old lady her party — you know she drove a lorry during the war, right? But, the idea of royalty in a modern republic or even in our four tenuously bound countries is both grating and embarrassing. A ragged union flag and some litter are a fitting metaphor:

Rail Run #51: To Wolverhampton via Compton Lock

“This bridge replaced the original structure in 1974. The lock seen from here replaced a lock reputed to be the first built in the Midlands.”

The plan: run minimal mileage to count Coseley Station in the Rail Run Project, ride to Wolverhampton, then run the canals counter clockwise to the Compton Lock and head home from there.

Rationale: good mileage and new canal furniture to add to the map. Especially compelling is the Compton Lock which the fellow on Canal Boat Diaries insisted is the first of the narrow locks in the British canals system.

What went wrong?

I planned the route to Coseley Station to leave me about 5 minutes to change into dry kit (I sweat like someone who drinks heavily) then dicked around the house 5 minutes too long and was heading down the ramp to the platform as the doors were closing.

So, I would have no rest after an initial 5 miler at pace. Shit. But, the sun was up and the wind with me and I decided to make my way out to the canal by dead reckoning.

It went surprisingly well except for the water tossed on the ‘first lock of its sort’ claim. The canals sections of the run are covered in a separate post.

I overshot the turn to Wolverhampton Station and had to loop back around a mile or so out of my way. Still sticking with dead reckoning, I discovered the above footpath adjacent to the rails and, through dumb luck, they carried me almost directly to my target. Eventual success!

Compton Lock to Wolverhampton Top Lock

The canal run write ups are as tedious to write as they are to read (sorry about that, Chief). For this one, the map is linked to the picture of the map (above) with the colour coded pushpins for bridges, locks, graffiti, etc clearly marked (all the photos are there and the ones I didn’t think I’d necessarily want to see again bunched into galleries in this post).

My path joined the Staffordshire & Worcestershire Canal’s at Compton Bridge, above. There is a plaque on the bridge which casts some shade on the idea that the first ever narrow canal is the (still fab) Compton Lock, here:

From the junction with the Birmingham Main Line to the Wolverhampton City Centre there is a flight of 21 locks, some of which were atmospheric:

Others sported graffiti or interesting hazard markings:

There was the obligatory Beatles earworm prompt (Number 9 Number 9 Number 9 Number 9 …):

The Wolves Top Lock has a house (the toll keepers?) and a marker:

And, the other locks did nothing for me but here they are if you are that sort of anorak:

There were also some impressive bridges and other structures. Tettenhall Old Bridge put the new bridge to shame:

These older two rail viaducts are massive:

There’s a low head space tunnel under another set of rail bridges:

The junction between the two canals is signposted…”I went down to the crossroads,” was the earworm that Revolution 9 later replaced:

And, finally, some interesting weirs that also served as footbridges were served up in the first few steps beside the waters:

And, to finish off, here are the other pics from this run:

The Stairs

It has been a while since I did a refurbishment post but we’ve not finished anything in ages — instead, we’ve had the wood floors, the kitchen, the gardens, and finalising the dining room floor all on the go and creeping imperceptibly forward. The stairs, too, but as we move toward moving a kitten into the house, the items that would suffer from little paw prints have been prioritised.

Back in 2019, we went through this as we stripped out wallpaper and floor paint:

Layers of wallpaper adhesive clung to the plaster leaving pits that eventually needed reskimming:

We eventually gave up on prepping the wood on the stairs for stain and varnish (but we are making progress toward the bedrooms, the landing, and the living room) and decided that a good floor paint would be best. Before the last coat of coconut milk wall paint was applied, I spent an exhausting morning sanding the treads, risers, skirting, and handrail. Going over knots released the odours of pine sap predating women’s suffrage, WWI, and wireless broadcasting:

It may not look it here but the tread surfaces are mercury flat.

Another month passed and we finally settled on the colour — or lack thereof — scheme. One coat per day over the long weekend we just took and we are finally down to touch up and detail work. Looks okay, considering:;

Short Movie Review: Dunkirk

It’s alright. You should see it.

Whiskey in the Jar Run

Over the weekend, I did a run loop that passed the Sandwell Hospital in West Bromwich. There are some grand, old buildings there and the best preserved of these — the post-natal clinic — had a couple of plaques that caught my eye, one commemorating the pile’s history as a workhouse and the other for this guy. I thought he was from Dublin but he apparently made his debut here.

Week 33 Recap: The Fall

It was still warm and the sun still rose early and set late 4 weeks ago when I made a snarky comment on Twitter about the obligatory photo of a helicopter-fucking-off-from-the-embassy being the last order of business in Afghanistan. That wasn’t prescience so much as stating the bleeding obvious but with the fall of Kabul I was, just momentarily, an oracle. (spoiler alert: the Fall of Saigon has a similar plotline).

This fuschia dates back to Old Town, Swindon (about 7 years ago). It bloomed beautifully that first year and since then its buds fall off before they open. Jackie has tried to get me to toss it every year since (“it’s dead, Bun…let go”). Blooms opened since last weekend.

Fall weather, early that it is, taunts us. Brrr…all week. Word is that climate change will affect ocean currents such that our little corner of the North Atlantic will get colder and wetter whilst America burns down. Of course.

And, staying on topic for this week, I’ll point out that our weeknight radio accompaniment to our tea is Marc Riley’s Radio 6 programme.

Friday night I finished framing out the shed. Sat for a few minutes on the longest and narrowest bit that serves as a lintel for the back doors and did not fall through (nor even sag) although some of the joints will benefit from nail plates before moving on.

Everytime I burn debris like this I think about this bonfire on a friend’s ranch outside Athens Georgia when not one but three other friends fell into the inferno over the course of the night. Drugs may have been involved. Drink definitely was a factor.

Fines and fees: £51.50. An anaemic amount of running.

Run Notebook 27 July 2001-24 Jan 2006

Went through another of The Notebooks. Here’s a collection of excerpts:

89°F, high humidity. Carb replacement: pint of chocolate soy milk mid-run, pint of Bud Light @ Mellow Mushroom, after.

4 August 2001

Cartoon from The Flagpole, the torchbearer of all things Athens, GA

Saturday after the Architecture Boat Tour, we went back to the hotel for drinks and muscle relaxers to ease my back spasms. Then, Blue Chicago for the evening, leaving at 1 am. Up at 5:30 to head to the race, but only the El was running (well, the El and me) so I still had to put in 3½ miles just to get there. Finished, then another 1¾ to the nearest station. Slow, but I bet I was the first finisher who could blow 0.08 at a DUI stop.

9 September 2001, writing up Chicago trip before heading home the next day

Flew home. Rain, traffic awful. Got to Debra’s to pick up Bobo at 8:30 pm then started packing for Edinburgh.

10 September 2001 entry ( rushing around before interview trip to University of Edinburgh)

Hijacked airplanes destroyed World Trade Center and part of Pentagon. Shock, drinking. Still sore from Sunday. Trip delayed.

11 September 2001 (the need to rush was lifted around 9 am this day)

4.4 miles at the Bot Garden. Sore first mile then picked up pace. Averaged 7:10 per mile.

12 September 2001, no further mention of terrorism until travel resumed in a few weeks

The Harry Potter forehead scar came from the bike wreck. This is all I know for sure about Harry Potter.

Backpack list for long A-to-B runs: compass, maps, bus and train schedules for the day, notebook and pen, water bottle, snack, dry clothes, strippenkaart, vordeelurenkaart, ID, cash, pot, eyedrops, neusspray.

Part of the planning for “Run Across Holland” which went on the duration of my two year postdoc position. The national cycle/fiets map I blackened in with runs to connect the, first, east-to-west then north-to-south jogs has long since fallen apart.

Some random other photos. Above, 20 July 2004 we were back in Athens and voting in the primaries. Below is from earlier than June 2002 (when the photo was finally developed), showing the proper, minimal supplies to write a dissertation:

In April 2005, I drove a University of Georgia van to Blacksburg, Virginia to pick up a gifted mass spectrometer. Went for a few hours run in the wilderness area nearby and discarded the soaked shirt with George Bush as Alfred E Neuman as I emerged still far from the vehicle.

This notebook, covering nearly 5 years, overlapped quite a few others; but, this was the ‘official’ run log for the period. At the back, lists of races and notable runs were tallied for the first time…and, long before my naming at a hash, there were hashes listed here. Excellent memories considering how shit everything in this one seems to be.

Inci-Dunce

For decades (back to my teens), when asked about the path to one story or another, my stock reply has been (and is), “yeah, well, there was an incident.” You know, like, “Bun, where are your clothes?” or “how did you go from Atlanta cab driver to internationally known* academic?” are answered, completely, with, “there was an incident.” {* note that “known” does not equal “respected.”}

The Uni defines inicident this way:

“An incident is an unplanned, uncontrolled event that has led to damage or losses to property, equipment, materials or the environment.”

Grain of salt: they also promote this graphic on Accidents, Incidents’ more serious sibling:

Key: Lifting an upside-down box leads to flatulence. Magnetic tools may be drawn to the plate in your head. The colour of your blood appears vastly different depending on the background, but if this applies to you pick your hand up off the floor. Dancing with a cylinder near nuclear waste receptacles is not advised.

2021 Week 11 Recap: Watched (With Relish … @HendoRelish to be sure)

Surveying the garden, I realised it needs a thorough tidy-up. I also had the odd feeling I was being watched.

I had a burger whilst waiting for a train in Sheffield in the pre-COVID days and splashed a bit of the sauce on it from the bottle the bartender brought with the meal. SWEET JUMPING JESUS ON A STICK! Newby mistake: I only expected a knock off Worcestershire and not a life changing flavour bonanza. I drenched the rest of the bap and my chips then drank a couple of spoonfuls neat. Henderson’s Relish is The Shit (as I kind of mentioned before). I finally chased down a stockist locally and now my life is complete.

Same stockist had another product nearby that made me smile. Backstory: A guy from Ireland came to Tucson to meet up with a woman who was in my old drinking club, the jHavelina Hash House Harriers, and who wrangled him into running with us four or five times in the week he was there. He absolutely earned his Hash Name, Gentleman’s Relish, referring to a bit of Ulster innuendo. Haven’t tried the stuff, yet, but it makes me happy just having it on the shelf.

It was a drinking week. Fines and fees: £53.50. Double dip fines were largely attenuated by split weekend and psychedelica exemptions.