- Glowing Green -
... although whether these particular trainers qualify as sensible canal attire is another matter entirely. Perhaps the Chairman wore them to try and distract us from the glow of his bald spot as we made our way towards Bromford Junction to join the Spon Lane Locks Branch?
- Spotted at Spon Lane Locks -
Talking of that follically-challenged scalp of his, here we see it at the other end of Spon Lane Locks. Despite the murky conditions, Mr D9 was positively drooling about the chance to do an extended stretch of Soviet swimming pool, burrowing along in the underbelly of the M5 motorway. The Welsh mountains and the Yorkshire Dales are all well and good, but this is what we call scenery.
- Oldbury Locks at Tat Bank -
Oldbury Junction has lost none of its horror value since we last had the misfortune of being here, but relief is close at hand in the form of the Titford Branch. Climbing the locks through Tat Bank to Langley is a peculiar pleasure on a grey and drizzly morning, the dank weather adding additional notes of atmosphere.
- Remains of The Bridge -
At New Inns Road Bridge we pause to see what has become of The Bridge pub, a place frequented by Roger, myself and Bruce the Bear in years gone by. The site has largely been cleared except for the clinging facade of the building's lower storey, presumably left intact as a barrier preventing people from clambering into the demolition rubble. This sorry sight precedes a stroll into Langley Village, admiring some of the old-fashioned shopfronts before we rejoin the Titford at Uncle Ben's Bridge.
- Titford Pools -
With our Chairman intent on some continued acts of goose-bothering we pass the rear of the Navigation pub and then below Jarvis Bridge, after which the canal splits into two arms. We initially explore the stub towards Birchfield Lane before then sampling the Whiteheath section, with tracks so muddy that Mr D9 feels obliged to retrieve some high heels out of the undergrowth for extra pathway purchase.
- Well hello Dolly! -
It's strange what weird and wonderful objects you can find abandoned on the byways of Blackheath, and members are now highly trained in being able to spot a silly photo opportunity if one should come along. Even so, this discarded dolly took us by surprise down off Cakemore Road, the little lady in question providing much entertainment after we'd suffered the blow of missing out on our planned breakfast.
- Double Top -
In need of a pit stop or two, we called into The Clock down on the corner of Nimmings Road and Masters Lane. The pub has been refreshed a little of late but its still very much recognisable as the landmark I first spotted from the 123 bus some years ago. Cobs, beer and darts are a winning combination even if Mr D9 is on top form and intent on handing out a thrashing - an early 3-0 lead for the bald one then, although the Victoria on Maltmill Lane gives WME the dual consolation of a sleeve success and a double top checkout.
- The Worlds End Closet -
It's only just gone 2pm and already the local schoolkids are finished for the day as we drift through into Quinton via a bladder call in the Stag. A ride on the 99 brings back memories of the old 636 route I remember from my University days, passing Quinton Police Station before alighting by the shops on Faraday Avenue. This is the Worlds End estate where D9 finds some treasure in the form of an old toilet block on one end of the shopping parade.
- Perry Hill Hub Marketing -
Worlds End Lane should by rights take us to the very edge of civilisation, but instead it leads us partway towards Brandhall. The only things ending around here are the Secretary's hopes of a darting comeback, as Bisto shows no signs of relinquishing his hard-earned advantage. The Perry Hill Tavern in fact sees D9 landing a remarkable three-dart score of 156 - shame he only needed 119 at the time!
- Fancy Dress or Plain Distress? -
Missing out on such a monumental score clearly did some damage to the D9 brain as before we knew it he was dressing himself up in possibly his oddest costume to date - a paw-print hat and a black binbag beard, all unleashed when waiting for the 127 bus down to Warley. Apparently he wanted to roll out the barrel, but had to make do with some chap named Brian in the Pheasant instead.
- The Rocket Pools -
Our Warley workout comprises assorted calls in the Plough at Bristnall Fields (properly cottagey), the Merrivale (we're glad to see such a landmark has re-opened), the Bell at Rood End (another example of wake-crashing) and the Cottage (for the final darting insult) before the Rocket Pools at Bradley steals in with the final nightcap. The green trainers were now suitably mud-encrusted and another magnificent bout of marketing mayhem was over - what a day!!!
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