Birmingham; local blurb

Got this flyer through the door a few weeks ago, from a young couple interested in buying a house in our area. I’m sure Antony and Emma are perfectly lovely, but we were turned off by all the socially acceptable boxes they’d managed to tick: professional couple, check, reference to starting a family, check, deposit in place and mortgage ready to go, eh? We binned the flyer with an uncharitable ‘sod you, you smug gits’. However, it’s obviously good to know that the house might be in demand.

Retracing steps back a few weeks … Mum and I met up for a city break in Birmingham from 8 to 10 June – our fifth, having now done Glasgow, Manchester, Cardiff and Chester. Pictures here. The decision to go to Birmingham was because Mum was keen to see the Staffordshire Hoard, the treasure trove of Anglo-Saxon gold found in a field near Lichfield in 2009, some of which is on display at Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery. We had decided to stick with Premier Inns and went over a Sunday and a Monday night when hotel bills are cheaper. We met at Birmingham New Street and walked from the station via the new Mailbox development (still on my quite old A-Z as the Royal Mail Sorting Office) to the Canal Side PI, where we left bags and lunched on some nice fishcakes at Red Peppers Grill and Cantina. After lunch we went for a walk, starting with a visit to the new Library of Birmingham in Centenary Square. Not entirely sure what I think of the exterior view, but it’s certainly eye-catching, vaguely reminiscent of a giant dolly mixture, or perhaps a colourful cottage loaf. The interior is jolly nice and Mum was reassured to see that it does contain books, among all the computers, relaxation pods etc. The finest features, I thought, were the two garden terraces, which are a lovely idea and I was particularly taken with the beautiful planting of green fennel, which was very effective.

But but but … I personally think it’s a bit of a tragedy that this has meant that the old (1970s) Birmingham Central Library is now scheduled for demolition. It’s perhaps inevitable given the current vicious backlash against Brutalist architecture (and that term doesn’t help), but depressing all the same. I never got the chance to go inside it, but it’s a striking building with an interesting central atrium. English Heritage have apparently twice tried to get it listed, but been unsuccessful both times, apparently due to lobbying from Birmingham City Council, who have now managed to get it a Certificate of Immunity from Listing, meaning that it can’t be protected from demolition until 2016. They must be so proud of themselves. And the poor architect – architects put all this effort into designing something they think is beautiful, just for it to get destroyed, in a way that doesn’t happen to painters and sculptors. The architect of the Central Library, Roger Madin, is now dead, though it sounds from the Wikipedia entry as though a fair amount of his output has already been flattened.

Brief departure on the subject of demolition of brutalist architecture: I noted from a video posted recently on Facebook by the University of Reading Alumni that Sibly Hall, formerly one of Reading’s halls of residence, has been demolished. I lived in Sibly briefly during my final year at Reading – only for about a term, I think, as I went off the whole hall living thing and, from memory, even more briefly moved in to my parents’ attic room in Hungerford.  I was never particularly enamoured of Sibly as a building and don’t think it was particularly architecturally interesting, but still think it was a bit tasteless of Reading alumni to post a video of its demolition, as many students must have enjoyed living there. Perhaps inevitably, the redevelopment of the site seems to be causing some controversy.

Returning to Birmingham. After visiting the new library, we wandered through Chamberlain and Victoria Squares; the latter houses several pieces of modern sculpture, including Antony Gormley’s Iron: Man which when we visited had fencing right up against it around some work being carried out. Also, this creature (left) with the most enormous buttocks. Didn’t take a picture of Dhruva Mistry’s The River, which forms the centrepiece of the square, but it is quite nice. We had dinner on the first evening at the Water's Edge branch of the Handmade Burger Company.

On Monday morning we had a not-bad breakfast at the PI, after a few problems with the Costa coffee machine had been overcome, and then walked from the hotel to Cambrian Wharf, which claims to mark the beginning of the Birmingham and Fazeley Canal. We walked down past the Farmer’s Bridge flight of locks (apparently unusual in having only a single lock gate) and a bit further along past some flats, before heading up into the Jewellery Quarter. We had a fairly brief walk through the Jewellery Quarter before heading back down via St Paul’s Square to a branch of the Urban Coffee Company, where we stopped for a drink. Then paid a brief visit to the cathedral and walked past the Bullring out to the junction of Hurst Street and Inge Street to see the Back to Backs. I hadn’t checked their opening hours in advance and Monday is the one day of the week they’re closed, which was a bit tiresome after the trek out there. Another time perhaps.

In the afternoon we went to BMAG to view the Staffordshire Hoard, though I fitted in a peruse round a few other galleries including the Buddha Gallery, which houses the Sultanganj Buddha, apparently the largest known complete Indian bronze sculpture, and the interesting 'Birmingham, its people, its history' galleries. Apparently a new public gallery for a permanent display of the Hoard is due to open this autumn. We had tea in BMAG's capacious but distinctly lacklustre café - apparently it’s just about to undergo a refurb. Dinner that evening at Strada followed by breakfast the next morning at Carluccio's, before travelling back. I could get used to the constant eating out.

Birmingham is a bit of an architectural mishmash of a city – but perhaps more interesting for that – and large swathes of it appeared to be being dug up when we visited. Its network of canals is probably one of its most striking features and one it appears to be rather gradually making the most of. I had visited a few times before, two brief trips with Ray, during one of which we went on a boat trip around then-derelict stretches of canal – v. interesting – and once for a conference with Progress South Central.


Another classic top story this week on BBC News' 'Most Popular' slot this week, right. Here's the detail.

Local news to finish: 1) Escaped llamas and alpacas in Whitchurch; 2) the apparent planned demolition of Didcot Power Station - seems rather a shame in a way, as it is part of the local landscape. Surely everything's ripe for conversion into luxury apartments these days, even cooling towers? 3) initial success in the latest bid for lottery funding to preserve Reading Abbey. The ruins have been closed for five years, which does seem a shame.

Willow; moths; inept photography; RIP Emrys

Willow, far from being less destructive than Lexie, is borderline worse, certainly as regards the furniture – she is so far less offended by shoes than Lexie was. Given access to the living room she will jump up onto the chairs at every opportunity and start munching. She is, though, also the friendliest rabbit we have yet encountered, pushing her head up into our hands to be stroked and jumping up onto the sofa and climbing all over our laps (albeit often while also trying to nibble clothing and the picnic blanket that currently covers Ruth’s mauled sofa). Feebly, we are so taken with her on this account that there is no question of returning her to the rescue centre, so we will just have to try to take whatever action possible to protect the furniture.

Ruth had a sort out and prune of her wardrobe the other week, which inspired me to have a sort through mine, though I lack her discipline and am still keeping a number of items of clothing that don’t currently fit me, in the optimistic hope that they might once I’ve shed that couple of stone that I’m going to lose any day now. I did though put a number of things on the charity/rag pile, including this pair of size 12 white jeans that I have owned for over 20 years, but which have only fitted me for probably about 3 of them altogether – they have always been my benchmark for whether I was at my (in my eyes) ideal weight, but I was persuaded that it was ridiculous to keep them.

Took a couple of more or less unworn skirts back to MK with me to advertise on the OU noticeboard, and have successfully sold both of them; one of them a frumpy Country Casuals just-below-the-knee number that I still didn’t feel quite old enough to wear (though actually the woman I sold it to was quite a bit younger), the other a short cream number from Zara, which was quite ludicrously marked XL but is a 12 at the largest – Zara is one of those shops best not shopped in if you’re over this size. I don’t think it quite fitted me in the shop so Christ knows why I bought it. Sold that one yesterday morning to a bubbly woman named Jenny who seemed delighted with it.

Managed to miss spotting Ed Miliband at the OU the other week, though Victoria did return to the office excitedly after getting her morning latte saying she’d seen him. I did though do my bit by pointing out that the intranet people had spelled his name wrong in the original piece. Well, it’s not hard to get these things right.

Moth-related emails from both of my parents over the last month, the one from Mum about the oak processionary moth, which has apparently been causing a kerfuffle in the Thames Valley area. Some aerial spraying of local woodland has been taking place, though this has apparently been condemned by wildlife groups – indeed, it’s hard to see how that sort of action wouldn’t kill other things besides the moth. A more recent BBC Berkshire article seems to claim that it has been responsible for a decline in blue tit numbers by depriving them of an important food source. B*stards. Received a photo from Dad a few days later of a pair of mating poplar hawk moths. They are indeed striking in appearance, but I have been vaguely squeamish about moths since the offputtingly large ones that we used to see in Indonesia years ago, though I don’t know what type those were. Perhaps these beauties?

Ruth and I went a few weeks ago to view the proposed redevelopment plans for Caversham’s precinct (officially known as St Martin’s Centre, according to the article, though I’ve never heard it referred to as such). The plans look very nice on the whole, though it seems to me a shame that it would apparently necessitate the removal of the mature trees that currently occupy the paved area between Costa and House of Cards (they are cunningly referred to in the Reading Post article linked above as ‘the existing non-native trees’ – aha, drum up support for their removal by making them sound like foreigners). Fully supportive of the proposed extension to Waitrose though – and relieved that there appear to be no plans to move the supermarket out of Caversham to a larger site, as is often the way these days – and the proposed revamp of the car park couldn’t hurt. After viewing the plans we went for dinner at Casa Roma, the latest in a line of restaurants to occupy the space on Caversham Road opposite TGI Fridays. Although it was a large brightly lit space and not very atmospheric – though the garishly kitsch artworks are endearing in a way – we were impressed with the food – we both ordered seafood dishes which came with a generous amount of actual seafood, not always the case – and with the staff.

Ray visited me during the last week in May while I was staying at the Buckingham Travelodge, and we went for dinner at Prego, an Italian restaurant on Buckingham’s High Street and rather the sort of place I wish we had in Caversham. Ray has managed to acquire a Land Rover Discovery from his friend Darren at the marina, which I was a bit stunned by although he appears mightily pleased with it.

Finally managed to overcome previous problems in trying to take out a new phone contract, and am now enjoying my new Galaxy S4. The whole ‘life companion’ bit is pretty corny, but its 13-megapixel camera does appear to take great pictures – better than those from my actual camera, a few-years-old Sony Cyber-shot with a piffling 8.1 megapixels. However, working out how to use it isn’t immediately straightforward, and the Dual Shot facility – which I couldn’t work out how to get out of at one point – seems irritatingly pointless. This is a facility which superimposes your own face in a postage-stamp-type frame over the main photo, as per this one, which I took accidentally in Mum's kitchen while trying to switch the wretched facility off. Am in agreement with this review, which describes it as “hilariously daft”.


The process of getting the new camera led to some more chat sessions with Vodafone, which are always fun.

While staying with Mum and Dad a few weeks ago Mum and I went to explore the lovely Gliffaes Tree Walk at the four-star Gliffaes Country House Hotel - the house is a bit of a monstrosity but the setting is beautiful. Could fancy the idea of a short break there, if the rooms weren't £200+ a night. Would have been a beautiful spot to take a few pictures, especially as the rhododendrons were just finishing, but I couldn’t get the phone’s camera to work – managed to unintentionally shoot a short video of Mum’s foot before getting it stuck again on the Dual Shot facility (evidence right).

Briefly cheered last Friday by thought of solution to housing crisis, but it was short-lived. My colleague Lizzie appeared at my office door asking if I’d seen the ad on the intranet for an apartment sublet in Woburn Sands, at a seemingly extremely reasonable £450 a month. I did duly express interest and drove over at lunchtime to meet the tenant, a swarthy German postdoc called Andy, and view the flat. Flat very nice, though my suspicions were slightly aroused by the sound of the parking arrangements, and the fact that both Andy and the owner of the flat would still want to sleep there for some of the time. I met the owner on campus that same afternoon, a young chap called Sam working on contract as a web developer. Very pleasant and laid-back, but I inferred quickly that Andy was in fact his lodger not his tenant (amazed at the number of people who don’t seem to know the difference) and that Sam, albeit claiming to spend most of his time with his girlfriend in France, evidently does spend a certain amount of time at the flat. Decided I wasn’t after a flat-share with a twenty-something, so bowed out, after having interrupted a fair portion of my Friday looking into it. TIRESOME.

Received news from Dad this morning that their now-elderly ginger cat Emrys has died. Mum got Emrys from the RSPCA sometime around 1999-2000, as I have this photo (left) in my collection labelled ‘Milly and Emrys 2000’. I believe he was thought to be possibly a couple of years old at the time of adoption, and had apparently been found wandering loose around Hereford. Emrys had, it has to be said, a somewhat spiky edge to his personality and was never a cat with whom one could let one’s guard down. Having said that, in later years he appeared to have become (slightly) more placid and enjoyed sitting on Mum’s or Dad’s laps – and indeed, often in their spot on the sofas while one or other of them sat on the floor. Also posting what must be one of the last photos of him, taken about a month ago lying on his mat.