I stepped off the train like Everything But The Girl and made a mental note of what time the train would return to Birmingham New Street (10 and 40 minutes past the hour) and what platform I would need to be on (3.) To my left a group of middle aged men held court in a circular seating area swigging from cans of Crest for a mid-morning livener. They looked at me as I gawped at them and I went quickly up the ramp to the stations exit. The exit led onto a shopping centre, the Saddlers, a clean concourse to the High Street, with a Claire’s Accessories and WHSmiths to my left. More newsagents and pastie shops, alas, I could not see the chip-shop-chip Gregg’s pastie that I’d heard about earlier on in the year.
In August, spurred on by a Lichfield blogger and a Walsall photographer about the fact that i’d never been that far north to that Walsall I’d never been to despite my 33 years living on this planet, with Birmingham as my home. On the 12th of September 2012 it finally happened. I’d gone to Perry Barr to hand in some work at the University, and decided after I’d finished there that I’d continue my journey to the terminus.