A striped sky hung overhead; blue and white lines repeating themselves, dragging my attention away from the quacking ducks landing on the pond, and the distant sound of cheers from the football ground.
Winter sun bathed my face and the dogs shuffled their feet, eager to dip their paws in the edge of the pond but unsure of the Canadian Goose that kept eyeing them up.
This pond and these paths have been here for over 20 years, the remains of an old brickyard, well hidden from the road. So well concealed that I didn’t even know this place existed until three years ago; it is a couple of minutes walk from my house and I didn’t even know it was here.
I’m sure I’ve written about this before, but it’s weird how we can live our lives so in a little bubble that we don’t even know about places right in our neighbourhood.
I’ve spent my whole life in the West Midlands, and I think it’s about time that I started to really explore it.