A Month In Pictures

December will be magic again.  I'm only just starting to believe Kate's festive lyrics after a couple of weeks of neck/shoulder pain (finally resolved by a pummelling from the chiropractor), swiftly followed by one of the worst colds I've had.  Here in the UK, we're dropping like flies with a perfect storm of Covid, flu and various other seasonal viruses circulating and spreading their own individual Christmas messages.

Should anyone fall foul of one of these viruses, I've done thorough market research on the over the counter remedies available.  The upshot is, most of them do absolutely nothing, so keep your hard earned cash in your pockets.  However, for persistent coughs, the only throat sweets I have found to be remotely effective are Lockets.  The only cough medicine that packs a punch is the Lemsip one.  But for evenings in, I recommend ye olde hot toddy, comprising the juice of half a lemon, a good teaspoon of honey, hot water and don't spare the brandy.

Anyway,let's move on.  The only good thing I can say about the last week is that I've stayed close to home, not wanting to spread my germs with the rest of the family by driving anywhere and consequently, I've managed to get some moody shots of the Black Country, by venturing out on foot.  The seasons definitely dictate how I see the world and I'm currently finding it impossible to extricate myself from my love affair with black and white.  This one was taken a couple of streets away.  I love this tree lined street and the way the sun bounces off its rain slicked surface.

Here's a suburban snapshot in a puddle...I was drawn to the lines.

Here's a typical Black Country boozer.

Venturing on to the neighbouring village, Wordsley, here we glimpse the old house at the entrance to King George V Park, flanked by some impressive monkey puzzle trees.

Another day, another detour through the side streets of Wordsley.  Can you spot the famous Red House Glass Cone?

Some old factory units, still in use and housing a small car repair service.  I wonder how many more years these buildings will exist?

Onto the canal...a sure sign you're in the Black Country.  The network was used to move coal, limestone and iron around the country and whole communities sprung up around them.  Life on the canal is much more sedate these days.

Onwards we go, past my first primary school, The Brook, first established in 1872 and attended by my Mom when it was a secondary school.  Some time in the 70s, the secondary school relocated and this building reverted to being a primary school.

The only pupils in attendance on the day of my visit were of the feathered variety and had flown in from Canada.  

This was my regular route to school as a small child.  For the longest time, there was some graffiti dedicated to the Irish band Thin Lizzy on the white expanse of wall.  I felt a little sad when suddenly one day, it had vanished.

Another glimpse of that cone.

Nature overspill.

Back on the towpath and the Red House Cone in all her glory, newly restored and imposing.

Rewinding a little, we went to see some more live music, courtesy of Black Country band Headshrinkers.  Securing my position at the front because I was relying on my mobile camera (and because I just love feeling the music and leaving with my ears ringing), I took a few shots, composing, framing and checking focus single handedly, as my other hand was rarely without a beer.  We had a blast and were blown away (almost literally) by the band's raucous noisy energy, lyricism and sheer talent, plus a welcome horn section.

They were ably supported by a female fronted band, Bld Sugr! (Blood Sugar).  The vocalist loved her theatrics and had a good set of pipes as our friend Ade pointed out.

After the show, Gareth snaffled a couple of vinyl editions of Headshrinkers' new album Judgment Day.  I had a brief chat with the lead singer, Garran, during which we discovered that we'd been following each other on Instagram for the last two years.  I hadn't made the connection prior to that evening, probably because it's a personal account and he posts less frequently than I do.  I really need to address my spiralling screen time!

I loved that the band are proud of their Black Country roots, Garran's lyrics are poetry and their videos are shot at various locations close to home.  I hope they make it!  Here's a link to Threadbare, which has proved to be an earworm and also features Dudley Priory ruins, which you may recall I also used as a location for my Halloween Steampunk shoot last year.

Headshrinkers - Threadbare (Official Video)

Staying with the black and white imagery, I made a final visit to Archie's Attic in Enville.  That's the beauty of our region, urban sprawl with a gritty industrial heritage, punctuated by pockets of picturesque countryside.  

Archie's is in a hamlet called Enville, seemingly in the middle of nowhere (but a short drive from the town of Stourbridge) with views to die for, an intriguing history and at least two Knights Templar graves.  The owner and great supporter of local crafters and creatives, Clare is moving on to pastures new.  The cafe will continue though, under different management and will be reopening in mid January.

I never tire of this magical place built around the historic Enville Hall.

I want this sign!

Mistletoe.

My one regret - unavoidable as it was - was that I was too unwell to go to see Sharon Shannon's Big Band Tribute to Shane MacGowan in Birmingham's Irish heart, Digbeth, on Friday.  Unsurprisingly, it was by all accounts an incredible evening, featuring the likes of Imelda May and former Pogue Kate O'Riordan.

So, I'll just have to make do with my vinyl copy of my favourite Christmas song, Fairytale of New York.

Oh, and because they look festive, I'm sharing the spools from one of this month's rare charity shop visits, where I managed to bag all the reds; a pair of leather gloves and a cashmere asymmetrical poncho.

Whatever you're doing, have a good one!  

Balls to Black Friday!

I know, I know I've used this title before, but it still stands.  I'm studiously ignoring the consumer madness of Black Friday.  It's not even confined to one day anymore; it rumbles on until Christmas and beyond, with people scooping up yet more home decor and fast fashion, the latter doubtless coming to a charity shop near you in February, stocking fillers no one wants and electrical gadgets that will stay in their drawers, unloved and unused for the remainder of time.  

I qualify this by adding that I have purchased items in sales in the past, so I get the temptation.  However, I've also shopped second hand since my teenage years and it didn't take me long to learn that the thrill of a good quality second hand find (an item that may have commanded £££ new - not to mention discovering something that no one else will be wearing), is a) way more of a rush and b) a little more responsible.  

I rarely visit high street stores these days and when I do, I'm shocked at the mountains of mass produced discounted clothing that will very soon be added to the real clothes mountain in a Chilean desert.  Do you know that this is growing by 39,000 tonnes per year?  Our addiction to fast fashion is now visible from space. 

Image:  Skyfi

So, my wardrobe, or clothing rail, is pretty small.  I try to keep it that way to maintain balance and perspective.  I love clothes, but also have an ongoing internal dialogue about them.  Fashion is fun but also superficial.  

I dress for myself and mood and practicality very much dictate what I wear.  If I'm going on a 10 mile hike for example, I want to be comfortable.  I'm going to wear trousers thick enough to withstand the brambles I'll have to contend with, boots that won't rub my feet and are mud proof and a coat that is waterproof.  If they happen to look good together, it's a bonus, but if those practical outfits don't always express who I am at my core, I'm at peace with that.  There's always time to dress up.  In stark contrast, on another random Tuesday, I may well be found wearing a flowing kaftan or some crazy patterned vintage maxi skirt for a working day indoors when I don't see another soul outside of my family.  

I have friends who adore putting together an outfit and friends who are more about other forms of creative expression and couldn't care less what I'm wearing; they just want to hang out.  It's all about balance.  Everything we buy, whether or not it's thoughtfully produced, will, in all likelihood, one day end up in on a mountain in a desert in Chile - and I try to keep that in mind.  

So my recent second hand purchases are items that suit my style, are variously vintage and/or of great quality and will stay with me for the duration.

1.  Wrangler Leather Cowboy boots; timeless coolness.

2.  Monsoon Embroidered Tabard.  This livens up a pair of jeans and works well belted over a roll neck and maxi skirt.

3.  Breton Top

Classic black and white Breton with scalloped bib in the thickest cotton by Joanie.

3.  Vintage Welsh Wool Waistcoat...

...teamed here with vintage velvet.  Never mind Black Friday, it's vintage brown vibes here.

In other news, I've been listening to a lot of podcasts this year.  I'm late to the party, but there are some corkers.  I confess, they've slightly overtaken books for me this year.  I quite like drifting off to sleep at night with a familiar voice in my ear.  

Here are some recommendations:

1.  Miss Me?

Singer/actress Lily Allen and her childhood friend, Broadcaster Miquita Oliver, discuss an agreed topic.  It's an entertaining listen; funny, poignant, thought provoking and outrageous in equal measures and the two communicate in an honest, authentic way that only the oldest friends can.  I swear they forget that the world is listening.

2.  Uncanny

My friend Sarah and I were discussing this at length in the pub on Friday night.  It's all about people's paranormal experiences but is very balanced, with input from sceptics and a team of researchers on each and every case.  Trust me when I say that many of the stories are hair raising and quite often it's the sceptics' rational explanations that seem the most implausible.

3.  Where There's a Will There's a Wake.

London actress and comedian Kathy Burke invites a new celebrity guest each week to plan their perfect death from last supper to funeral arrangements and who gets what.  I recently listened to the Danny Dyer episode.  Danny Dyer is a foul mouthed cockney actor, who can also be incredibly funny.  He was very clear in his instructions which was to be buried "stark b*!!**k naked, but for a pair of pink cowboy boots."  

So here's a question for you.  What would you like to be buried in?

Last week, we also caught the opening night of Fontaines DC's UK Romance Tour in Wolverhampton.  If you're unfamiliar with the band, they are an Irish post punk band formed in Dublin in 2014.  Grian Chatten, the lead singer, is a poet and in my humble opinion, Shane MacGowan's natural successor.  He's a different character to Shane, but an amazing lyricist.  We feel lucky to have seen them at Wolverhampton Civic, a relatively intimate venue.  Their next tour, I suspect, will be an arena tour.

Here he is in action; a darkly poetic soul.

Talking of darkly poetic, I'll leave you with my latest photos from the garden.  I'll probably be loitering here for a while, given that our car is now a write off thanks to a disagreement with a service station pothole close to Manchester.  See you soon!

Fern fronds

Decaying leaves

Mahonia berries

First Snow

Surprise!  Snow was in the forecast, but we weren't expecting it as far south as the Midlands.  This is the first time we've had snow in November since 2010, but after weeks of gloom, I was happy that something was happening!  

I grabbed my camera, layered up, laced up my boots and headed into the garden and beyond.

Hydrangea is the gift that keeps on giving; beautiful in every season and especially now, with its transitioning blooms encrusted with ice crystals.

Further up the garden, the pine needles were glistening and bejewelled.

With Christmas closing in, the holly was on point.

Through the garden gate, the dying foliage clung to life under the virgin snow.  I didn't see another soul; the silence only broken by the muffled sounds of my footsteps and chunks of snow falling onto the ground around me (and a little down the back of my neck), disturbed by racing squirrels and landing birds.

I headed up onto the ridge.  Usually, by the time the snow arrives, it's January and the leaves have long since lost their autumn colours, leaving behind smudgy pathways blackened by mud and decay.  Today it looked magical!   

I barely noticed the cold.  Nature's awesome.  These photos were taken less than 3 minutes' walk from my garden gate and to seemingly have it all to myself made me feel very thankful and helped soften the blow of being forced to cancel plans to meet up with a friend today. 

On the way back down, I paused to capture the snow falling against suburban backdrops.

Leaving you with a short highlights video.  Stay cosy!  

First Snow of 2024