Why? You may well ask. Ages ago, Battleaxe arranged to go up and meet old colleagues/friends for one of our Castle Vale senior team reunions – we only have them around every five years. Friends suggested that I should stay in Moseley, but those CVCHA folk were once real party animals – didn’t fancy rolling out to the suburbs at 1am and beating on people’s doors, so booked a Premier Inn in the City Centre. Then , of course, had not bargained on Storm Bert. Train journeys both up and down were quite exceptionally grim. But had a good time and was even briefly seduced by the magic of Brum lights…
Yes, I remember saying in the very first Hastings Battleaxe post I ever wrote, back in December 2011, that us Brummies loved bright lights. Last weekend, it was the German market. More lights than ever…
I won’t go into the grim details of the journeys, but suffice it to say on the way there I was ordered to buy a whole new ticket from Hastings to London, because I needed to get an earlier train in order not to miss my connection at Euston. Turned out my Trainline booking allowed me to travel on an earlier train at no extra cost. (have now got a full refund but it was very annoying). Then, when I get to Euston there was a security lock-down. The tube corridors and station concourse were absolutely heaving beyond heaving. Fought my way through to my train and just struggled on board on in time – but then we sat at the platform for an hour because the driver couldn’t get there…
Arrived in Brum, exhausted, at some time after 3. I had been supposed to meet my friends the Sues for early afternoon tea, but couldn’t do it. Checked into the Premier Inn and collapsed on the great big Premier Inn bed. The floor I was on had been refurbished since my last visit in 2019, and the room was – flawless. Clinically clean, great bed, blackout curtains, big flat screen telly, everything you could need for an overnight stay, quiet, warm.. One of my favourite trash TV watches is Four in a Bed, where people stay in various B & Bs. So many of those rooms lack basic things – why don’t the B & B owner contestants just book themselves into a newly done-up Premier Inn for the night? Ah well.
Set off to walk to the Old Contemptibles pub in Edmund Street – it was a fair way from my hotel, which was right by Grand Central, as they now call New Street Station. Thank goodness, the rain was by then just light drizzle. The German Market and linked Christmassy stuff seemed to have taken over much of the City Centre – even the Cathedral graveyard was a heaving mass of Craft Market/funfair. So many shiny new buildings to goggle at – and the trams… and the lights… oh the lights… and the predominantly young, diverse, lively – and thin – crowd. The streets were rammed with people out to enjoy themselves.
Wandering along, I couldn’t help making comparisons with poor, suffering Hastings. Down here, just about every major public building seems to be closed or struggling. The Pier, St Mary in the Castle, the Debenhams building… We have so many empty shops and shabby buildings, the roads and pavements are falling apart, public transport is a disgrace, the Council can barely afford any Christmas lights… oh it is sad. For the first time since we came down here, I actually caught myself wondering if we had done the right thing in moving…
Thank goodness, those feelings didn’t last. Of course it all looked exciting, slender, shiny and lively – but Birmingham City Council is bankrupt, the City Centre is all show not substance. Also, these days, only the young would venture into the City Centre at night. The old, the poor and the not-thin are hidden away in the suburbs. One of my Castle Vale friends said she hadn’t been to town at night since before the pandemic…
Further to the same theme, on the train home, I met a Hastings friend, Juliet Harris. (Lawyer, part-time DJ, on TV Mastermind a few weeks ago). She had been up in Brum quizzing, and staying in Kings Heath, and said that living there you’d be in a ‘very small pool’. Oh, of course. Back then, in Moseley/Kings Heath we lived in a bubble of people just like ourselves. Predominantly white, middle-class, left-wing, academic/education, public service or charity. It was a tiny, restricted little world we inhabited, and we rarely moved beyond it. Of course, Hastings is not so diverse, but we do mix with a much wider selection of people.
Juliet also said, rightly, that I was now looking at Birmingham as a visitor, a tourist, and not as a resident.
Anyway, met the gang in, thank goodness, a quiet room in the Old Contemptibles. The pub itself was a noisy heaving horror… One of us was missing – he had gall-badder problems. We had a nice meal and a good yakk but the pub wanted the room back at about 8.30. What could we do now? Well, needless to say, there was only one place in the whole City Centre that was quiet enough for us to carry on yakking – the bar of the Premier Inn! So, by 10.00 I was drinking their complimentary mint tea, and was in bed by 10.30!
What? I am the oldest member of that group – it seems that younger people no longer drink much these days, and don’t go out much at night. There is even an article about it in today’s Guardian. Looks like Philosopher and I are late-night owls with our usual 10pm bedtime. Also, in our group, two of us are now retired, two are now Chief Executives of various organisations and the other is a senior director… late night carousing is no longer on their menus…
Anyway, next morning I happily devoured a massive Premier Inn breakfast and headed back to the station. One nice thing, Ozzy the giant bull, which was the centrepiece of the city’s 2022 Commonwealth Games project, has been restored and now lives in the station atrium. He still moves, glows and roars every hour, but obviously not first thing on a Sunday morning.
It was wet and windy, but not drastically so, and the train was on time, I thought all would be well. We lurched cheerfully enough over flooded rails near the NEC, but then the thing slowed to walking pace, and I started to get messages to say that the lines from London to Hastings were blocked by fallen trees. The messages came and went – as soon as one tree was cleared I guess others would fall down. Then was told that a train had hit a fallen tree at Hildenborough…. and trains from Victoria were cancelled. I messaged Philosopher to say I might only get to Tonbridge… train staggered into Euston 30 minutes late, then part of the Underground was shut – only the Northern Line Bank branch was open. Needless to say the tube trains were impossibly crowded…
But things improved. I met Juliet – travel troubles are always less stressful shared – and at London Bridge there was an actual Hastings train. Not the one we should have caught, but who cared… we got seats and yakked happily all the way to Hastings.
Oh, it was good to be home.
Here is the Castle Vale gang, living it up in the Premier Inn….
