War & Peace

Welcome to a well-kept national secret. No, it's not that the Hillsborough disaster was a disgraceful police cover-up; thankfully, that one's been blown wide open. Nor is it that evidence of WMDs in Iraq was "sexed up"; we've always known that they didn't sex it up, they shagged it up. This secret is buried far deeper, right at the heart of the country.

The secret is the Fazeley cut on a sunny summer day, slicing right through Birmingham city centre - that most maligned of England's nooks and crannies - punctuated by picturesque locks and flowerbeds, lined with old forges and factories, with pubs aplenty to fuel your thirst, and not a concrete building in sight.

Just after I took this shot, a foreign lad - either of Mediterranean or Latin American origin - called me from the opposite towpath and asked directions to the Bull Ring. I proceeded to give him the most convoluted set of geographical vectors in the history of human civilisation, to which he was understandably nonplussed; but then he surprised me with a further question:

"What is the Bull Ring?"

It took me off guard; after all, I come from the more old-fashioned school of folks who like to know exactly what the function of a place is, and what necessity it could serve for me to visit, well before I make the decision to perambulate on down there. But I did my best:

"Iss a shopping centre, ay it."

"A shopping centre?"

From his expression, it was as if I'd told him it was a rotting elephant foetus decorated with fairy lights and bunting. At this point, it was clear that I had to prevent him from actually seeing the Bull Ring, lest his opinion sink even lower.

"Ar. Well. Ter be honest, bab, ah'd stick around here if ah was yow. Iss a nicer place. Peaceful."

He agreed that it was a beautiful spot, thanked me for my advice, and decided to explore the cut a bit further. And what a wonderful day it would have been if I could have stuck around myself and basked in the tranquillity.

Instead, I had to head on home where I shortly learned that a nail bomb had been set off in town, and subsequently, the evening has ticked away to the slow rhythm of police helicopters circling low over the rooftops. I get the feeling that it's going to be a long summer, and moments of peace will end up being few and far between.