Clent Hills. Sounds like a long-lost cousin you wish you’d never found. It’s actually a pretty spot just outside Birmingham with some trees and that.
When I started writing this blog over a year ago, I thought people would like the photos but find the written posts a bit wordy and pointless. Pictures are easier, I thought, in our visual age, and no-one has time to read 1500 words of half-drafted opinion. Turns out I was wrong: I get a lot more views and feedback from wordy posts than picturey one, which is nice in a sense, but I still prefer the pictures. They can’t be wrong in the same way as words can. Words commit, pictures only gesture. Here are five from ol’ six toes himself, Clent Hills.