Wordsley, Stourbridge, England: 14 degrees, sunny, warm in the sun but cold in the shade.
Saturday was a marathon day, during which I accomplished quite a lot, and for me, the activities of the day were more enjoyable than those at night.
It is a beautiful, sunny day — a truly sunny day, with it being warm in the sun and cool in the shade. Spring is arriving; many flowers have already bloomed early, likely due to a supposedly mild February. For me, it was not so mild, as I am used to warmer weather—especially at this time of year, which is the summer in Brazil.
I got up early and did a tough workout, both in the living room and outside on the patio, with at least 20 minutes of skipping. I had a coffee, got ready, and Julie would pick me up around 11:00 a.m. I asked her to meet me in the car park of Wordsley church. I also asked her to bring Austin, her cockapoo, because I was missing him.
I walked to the church car park, and shortly after, Julie arrived with Austin. He seemed very happy to see me, and since we were right next to the graveyard with plenty of open grassy space between the graves, we decided to take him around the churchyard.
The churchyard is divided into two sections: the old part, with long, overgrown grass and old graves scattered precariously in all directions, and the other part, featuring a neatly mown lawn, small, discreet tombs, and everything orderly and in its proper place.
We strolled around for a good 20 to 30 minutes. It always amazes me how, when you look at the gravestones that have been there for 50 or 60 years, or even 100 years, the person has died and been gone for a long time, but the gravestone, the memorial, remains standing strong after all this time.
When we returned to the car, we decided to head to Stourbridge, the main town in the area. I want to walk around the town centre, so we left the car near the bottom of the town at the ‘Old Wharf’, beside the canal.
Before entering the town, we strolled along the canal for a bit and encountered Dave, the boatman, whom we had photographed the week before. We also stopped by an antique shop that sells everything imaginable, although much of it is items nobody wants anymore these days. However, it is still very nice to rummage around.
It was quite an interesting place; the woman there sold traditional sweets from our childhood, which were sold by weight in large, glass jars. It reminded me of my father, who had them in his newsagent’s shop when I was a child, again bringing back memories from the past.
We bought four different types of old-fashioned sweets and lozenges that were very popular in the past, but are less so nowadays. The shop was full of memorabilia, some of which was worth purchasing and a lot of which was not, but it was still interesting. It was lovely to walk around the shop, situated on the second floor of an old, restored warehouse overlooking the canal.
Just the place itself was worth knowing; after leaving, it was time to walk into Stourbridge centre and the High Street.
Stourbridge High Street is divided into two sections: upper and lower. The upper part, where most of the key retail shops are located and the town’s centre, acts as the central hub of activity. The lower part is quieter, with fewer shops and less foot traffic, and it is home to King Edward’s College, where I previously studied.
We entered from the bottom of Lower High Street, walking up towards the main Upper High Street. We stopped at one or two shops that we found interesting and passed in front of the college, which brought back many memories.
Opposite the college is the building that used to be the town cinema a long time ago. They used to have Saturday morning matinees, and I remember seeing Convoy, the film starring Kris Kristofferson, which was a blockbuster and considered one of the most important films of the time, along with Star Wars in 1977. I was 11 years old.
Market Street separates the upper and lower parts of the High Street. I had met a large black woman and her husband in the café in Wordsley, where Julie works, a week ago, who had told me that she had a fashion shop on this street, in the same shop where I used to buy high-end clothes 40 years ago.
This large, black, modern, and stylish woman and her husband were sitting at the table next to me in the café, and she asked why I was writing so much. I told her we talked quite a lot and exchanged Instagram accounts. So, I thought it would be a good idea to look for the shop that this woman had, and as I knew where it was, we found it. It was full of modern, revamped clothes with a black power vibe. It was nice; she didn’t recognise us at first, but after explaining, she at least pretended to.
Julie, Austin and I, a couple and their dog.
The shop was very nice, but we didn’t stay very long; we left and wandered along the upper High Street of Stourbridge. We also had coffee at Nero’s coffee shop, which welcomes dogs. While I was getting the coffee, Julie found a lovely little table and armchairs in front of the main window.
It is surprising how much attention Austin receives from passersby. We then left and wandered around some more, eventually reaching a restaurant Julie likes to go to when she’s in Stourbridge.
The front of the restaurant is not so impressive and relatively small, but as soon as you enter, it opens up into a dark green and red painted-walled restaurant with lots of old heavy and dark paintings hung on all the walls and a large and long bar in the right-hand side in the middle, which is where you have to pay for your drinks and orders.
Austin was very well-behaved, lying by our side while we had lunch. The food was good but not exceptional. Julie enjoyed the dessert more than her main course, but everything was OK. We stayed there for about two hours before leaving to go back to the car and head home. Again, we were like a couple walking their dog through the town centre to Lower High Street, then to the wharf, where, thank God, the car was still parked.
Julie dropped me off at home around 5:00 p.m. The plan was to go out again around 8:00 to the Market Tavern pub, where we had been last Saturday. The pub was unexpectedly very cosy, and Julie loved the young barman, Grant, as a potential adoption material in the future.
We had arranged to meet at the pub, but she insisted on picking me up. She picked me up, but we went to another pub for a quick drink to kill some time before going to the Tavern. We then left the car in front of her parents’ house, which is not far from the pub. Although it was a bitterly cold night, we walked two or three blocks, tightly hugging each other due to the cold, but it was still quite nice.
It was disco night at the pub, not as enjoyable as last Saturday night with the rough lady singer. The music wasn’t to our taste, and it was too loud; it was hard for us to chat, so we kissed more than we talked. For some reason, the time went by very quickly, and it was time for the last orders and to leave.
I walked Julie back to her parents’ place, where, for some reason, we were giggling, laughing like silly teenagers. She later told me that the best part of the night was walking home together, filled with so much joking and laughing. It may have been a result of the finale having such a good day.
We kissed goodbye, and I was lucky to catch a bus back to Wordsley, and in less than half an hour, I was at home. My mother was still up, I raided the fridge, drank two glasses of red wine, and watched ‘Fury’, the war film starring Brad Pitt.
I am thankful for the wonderfully busy day with my favourite person of the moment and her special and enchanting dog.
In bed by 2:00 p.m.
Thank you.
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Richard
