Poor Brigid - more locks, this time downhill and close together. We crept our way around the back of central Birmingham, including of course around the back of Aston University. On the Snow Hill flight, there's a huge cavernous railway bridge, which of course meant getting the trumpet out - I do hope 11am on a bank holiday Monday wasn't too antisocial. A couple of faces appeared at windows in the building adjacent - which turned out to be flats - with a wave and upturned thumb, so I guess I got away with it. It sounded great, though, like playing in a huge great hall, I wish I could think of more to play than a bit of Purcell and the opening bit of 'Papa's got a brand new pigbag'.
After finally conquering the camp hill flight we went for a walk to find the old Almshouses where I lived for a year as a student -amazing grouped bedsits around a central courtyard by a roundabout at the top of the hill from Digbeth. Lovely to see them still there, as in used as residential places for youths; still in the spirit of Almhouses, really.
We then headed on down the leafy (and mucky - had to clear the prop twice today of stuff that really shouldn't have been in a canal in the first place) arm of the Grand Union that escapes out of Birmingham. Sadly dropped off Brigid at Olton station so she could get back to London and the 'w' thing, but such things are due even to me soon enough... ;-(
Anyway, have managed to catch up on the last days blog posts, although I'll be going back to add more pictures in future - if you saw the minimalist versions, there's more now...
A hundred years or two - Next weekend I shall be celebrating a centenary, and a bicentenary
6 hours ago