the 12:50 to Birmingham International
and a tiny women with two huge pink suitcases on wheels - boards at "New Street"
then confidently
and without any fuss
finds herself a seat
for her and her pink entourage.
Birmingham
relentless Birmingham
bustling
alive
busy with people being busy
busy being busy
through cuttings and tunnels we glide
and nothing changes
the view is of criss-crossing railway lines
tower blocks
chimneys
factories
building sites are everywhere
the cranes more prevalent than the hundreds of church spires - which,
somewhere,
somewhere largely unseen - prick it's open skies
the scaffolding dotted with men in high viz
going about their work
as if Birmingham has yet to be built
sites of industry
sites of dereliction
industrial units offering products of all kinds
services like industrial laundries
railway maintenance vehicles in a line
building supply firms offering "everything for the trade"
and dotted about the chaos
like tiny islands in the midst of a vast ocean
are the residential streets
near abandoned gardens which won't win any prizes
with views into the backs of houses which aren't going to win any either
some; trying to keep up appearances
some; not so
the places where the good folk of Birmingham return to after a hard day's work
cars parked
lawns cut and gardens tended
corner shops for that forgotten pint of milk
houses
houses in streets
streets amidst the industry
streets amidst the history
a place to call home
a place to be and work and live and to be proud to come from.
Birmingham
