While Eastside is one of those places currently undergoing regeneration its roots are definitely in industry: it is the site of the original railway station of Birmingham. The area has now diversified into a more diverse nature: both Birmingham City & Aston Universities have a presence there (don't you love the way Birmingham's universities are named after its football teams?), student housing, new blocks of flats, the Think Tank, & of course the park.
I like the park, I like the plants they've picked: they're architectural enough to interest me & not banks of panseys. They only trouble was I saw my old manager there, so I was busy doing cutting looks. At least she'd dressed in a colour that actually suited her for a change.
In an attempt to grasp the actual spirit of Eastside I went for a mooch through the building site that constitutes most of the area. I don't think I've ever seen so many derelict pubs so close to each other (pics attached for those who like that sort of thing). It's funny how so often a pub is left when there is literally nothing surrounding it.
Literally a stone's throw from a bustling city park I found myself alone to all intents & purposes, which was when I encountered the unexpected spirit of that part of the city. It felt disjointed, somehow, all over the place, with no coherent single feeling to describe it. In places, such as the car park behind the station, it felt tired. In other places there were feelings of desperation & sorrow, such as around the old factory which is the last picture.
I have seen that factory from the train so many times, but not close up. It's pretend: the terracotta decoration is only at the front: this was for show only. The area didn't have the friendly feeling that Digbeth has, & so despite being so close & probably originally having a similar culture, it has attracted a passing crowd rather than the bohemian Digbeth set.
One thing was very strange: once away from the families I felt as if I was being followed, or rather watched on & off as if someone was walking in the same direction as me & periodically observing me without that being the intent of the person's journey. Not something I often feel!
At length I turned round & stretched out some feelers to contact the thing that I didn't see every time I turned round. It was a man, a poor old thing who didn't realise he didn't have to return to his old 'haunts'. He had this feeling of loneliness about him & didn't understand what was happening. He was pleased when I communicated to him that he was dead & could go now. Requiescat in pace.
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