retiredmartin

August 2026. Alvechurch.

A well-trod three and a half hour drive back from Cardiff to Sheffield,

M4/A449/A40/M50/M5/M42/M1, and I got as far as the M42 before I needed to stop (bones not bladder).

It’s a quarter of a century since I last stopped (for a Balti at the New Dilshad) in Alvechurch, pop. 6,564, so ideal for a quick leg stretch,

Mind you, coming off at Hopwood Services you’ll find yourself almost in Redditch before you can do a right hand turnto this pretty Worcestershire village. And no-one wants to find themselves almost in Redditch.

I’m encroaching on Lana’s territory here, and dangerously close to the Wythall Transport Museum. I’m sure Lana has been to Alvechurch, and if she goes back for a blog post will undoubtedly dig further than I did in my 21 minutes (the pubs were shut).

Like Big Brother Bromsgrove, it’s famous if at all for nail and needles, but some readers of the Rothmans Football Annual may recall a stellar FA Cup run to the 3rd round in 1974 (lost 4-2),

and the record setting six (6) games needed to beat Oxford City two years earlier.

There ought to be a local history museum for that endless cup tie alone, but instead you’ve a feast of black and white timber,

a market square with gentlefolk-filled cafes,

and a pub with some accessibility challenges.

Oh, and one of those red telephone boxes filled with books, rather than expected defibrillator.

Fay Weldon was born here, but James Patterson dominates the shelves.

I only read “The Retirement Chapter”, “Prop Up The Bar”, “Life After Football”, “Paul Bailey Beer”, “BRAPA” and MumsNet these days.

Much for Lana to enjoy in a compact little village,

with solid looking Church of St Laurence,

and controversial modernist meeting room “Ark” behind.

The only pub I’ve been to here is the GBG perennial by the marina but I might return to the Weighbridge the next time I need a comfort break.

Any village with a “Hopping Bob Street” is worth a diversion.