Dripping the viscous hand sanitiser all over the note pad sign in sheet at the Billy Wright, I was startled by the bartender sidling up and telling me to put on a mask then go find a seat. I was yet to sit down when she appeared again; “bums on seats,” she offered with a pantomime version of that action. As we both touched down, she said, “now we remove our masks.” Masked standing, unmasked sitting.
It is an old persons’ pub, which I generally like. Except for the yelling across the room and the fact that everyone had a phlegm-y cough. And, the rubbish music.
Had some things to do in the lab, Sunday, and decided to do the run home instead of “to” due to the persistent and heavy rain. I hoped for a metaphor, but the concrete nature of reality sustained me for the journey.
We chilled some champagne Friday. Events at Walter Reed dictate the state of the cork.
The rain will end, someday. And, this prophecy may finally come true:
Students returned to swarm around the campus despite the vanishingly small number of face-to-face lectures taking place. Rather than risk the hordes clogging the pavements and tow paths, I ran home via my old, work-to-Harborne paths (that’s part of Harborne Hall in the photo).
Thereafter, the route was dictated by the sun and I found myself in new streets and estates.
National lock down looms. Two days or two weeks. But, soon.
New graffiti on the canals seem to have a COVID-19 angle. Or, maybe it’s just me…I haven’t really acknowledged how deaf I am but I have been having trouble ‘hearing’ people when I can’t see their mouths. “Mime” is a partial solution and if you can’t talk with your eyes or use your charades skills anymore effectively than the squid creatures, then take off the mask and we’ll stand a couple of metres apart.
We took day off refurb work for our first trip (since the COVID-19 fiasco started) anywhere outside of the Wolverhampton – West Brom – Birmingham – Solihull corridor Saturday. We went to Derby, new to both of us and full of surprises like the Black Lives Matter exhibit outside the old indoor market (above).
The DCFC mirror above the bar at the Merry Widows perplexed us. Turns out that until recently The Baseball Ground was their football field. Baseball rivalled cricket at one point around here and the in the mid-19th century the cricket/baseball pitch at the old greyhound track (note, we also went to a pub called the Greyhound). Begrudgingly sharing the space with the footballers — who would haunt the lowest levels of Association Football until the arrival of Brian Clough — the football stadium that eventually surrounded the pitches took on this ironic name.
That field is long gone, like this fantastic nightclub we past on a shortcut over to the Friars Gate.
At St Peter’s, we were confronted with a grand house displaying four statues of locals-done-good. Now a Costa Coffee, it was built in 1912 as a Boots The Chemist. The statues are of John Lombe, the fellow who stole silk mill technology from the Piedmontese (eventually being poisoned by same); Jedidiah Strutt, an industrialist and philanthropist who also built the arboretum (see next photo); William Hutton, born here but eventually becoming a Birmingham bookbinder, poet, and also a keen walker (his account of his 600 mile journey to, along, and back from Hadrian’s wall becoming one of his many histories published); and, Florence Nightingale, a nurse of some note.
Killing time, we wandered neighbourhoods until time for our train and putting on over 8 miles hiking the city for the afternoon. A longer stay is in order (so many pubs, museums, parks to explore — all less than an hour from our front door).
I picked up a few bits and bobs at the Screwfix Sunday and, backpack laden with caulk, coving cement, and quick-grab adhesive, altered my route to pass by the recently (this week) reopened Gough Arms.
It is good to see them taking the pandemic seriously. I ordered at the bar and paid with cash but had been instructed about the one-way traffic: if you go out it is via the back and, if you want to return (toilet, another round, whatever) you make your way around the building to the front.
It’s a good system on a Sunday after the lunch rush (which inexplicably they had none of, but it is their first weekend back). There were two family tables dining and, as you can see from the garden photo, only me in the shade and a couple way over by the car park soaking up the sun and some ciders.
Only scheduled to visit the labs once this week so my streak of 8 consecutive commutes (and 9 of the last 10 possible) ends with today’s hurricane enhanced run home along the canals. Took some photos of other runners in the rain and of wet flowers against foreboding skies as the sun made one of its brief appearances. The winner, though, is the newest COVID related graffito:
I was running home Friday afternoon after a busy and, despite the lack of any measurable progress, productive week when I spied the Craft Inn at the southern extent of Bearwood. I signed the track and trace book and headed to the bar. “No, you can’t come in yet, mate. I have to take your temperature.” I didn’t fancy the sound of that but it was less invasive than how I pictured it.
I got one of two porters on the taps (this place is wonderfully stocked) and enjoyed the sounds of conversations and hip background music. It is probably all you can hope for, at present.
Great pub, the Swan, but also the first one I’ve felt weird in since the Great Pub Reopening. All the seating is around the walls in little demarcated areas and everyone in there looked like they were both conscious of the risks (I was easily the youngest and I’m bordering vulnerable-due-to-age).
The beer garden is nice and large but there was wind, rain, and a chill in the air (and I was already wet from roughly 7 miles running through this fine summer weather to get here). Inside, though, there was that palpable sense of doom and camaraderie. This would easily have made one of my favourite pubs before the plague.
The kick in the ass to the mileage count really started in May so 2020 miles in 2020 is back on track.
Six full months into the bastard year 2020 and I am taking stock of my New Year goals when things looked a lot different than now. It is day 182 so the real midpoint of this leap year is tomorrow, but 6 months seems a nice demarcation.
I planned on 52 commuter runs either to or from work. So far, I’m at 48 and feel on track to go into surplus in two weeks. 24 of each, right now, but TO is easier than FROM in the darkness of Autumn and Winter. Of this year’s miles so far, 468 are from commutes.
The GVRAT map as it stands 30 June 2020
Malaise, illness, other priorities, and just plain laziness had really seemed to doom the 2020 miles goal for 2020. But, I ran 63 out of 72 days of the Total Lockdown and have run every day since May 2 (in large part due to the Great Virtual Run Across Tennessee). My mileage at 31 March was only 355 but today stands at 1042, well past the 1010 halfway point. Monthly, it looked like this:
January
120
February
89
March
146
April
151
May
251
June
285
An ultra is probably off the books for this year; I really can’t consider the GVRAT counting as one since it isn’t all in one go. I had planned on the Liverpool-Leeds Canal Race at the August Bank Holiday but despite their hopes of holding it, I can’t count on the pubs along the way being open so my nutrition strategy from The Ridgeway would have to be completely retooled (as of today, the pubs have been closed 102 days and will almost certainly go down again the way everyone is behaving). An alternative in November, a 24 hour ‘race’ tracked by GPS to see how far from the Centre of England you can get by any route, is sold out for this year.
The planned Weekly World Tour of Local Shop Bevvies didn’t even get started until Lockdown but now stands at 37 (all beers, now, although I have made it through a dizzying array of Russian and Polish white liquors, too):
Refurbs continue on the new home, but the supply line disruptions put kinks in the overly ambitious original plans. We have yet to start on the major electrical work or the wood floor refinishing (both being coupled). The 2nd fireplace is still intact and the 1st one still awaits an insert. But, the upstairs bath is done, the garden has come along, and the WC/laundry is nearly finished. We won’t be finished with the full list by Christmas but could easily be by this time next year.
Finally, though not part of the original goals I started mapping Canal Furniture and other interesting waterway items. The map has categories for Bridges (and Aqueducts and Tunnels), Locks, Gauging Stations, Graffiti, and Misc Points of Interest — each of which can be toggled on or off. The project should continue to grow although there are some tow paths I tread with dull regularity (see “commuting”).
Endless British Pub Crawl (Part 3) 