Out of darkness cometh light

I used to be afraid of the dark, of how I’d get through the short days and long nights of winter. How could I endure this miserable time of year? How could I accept my favourite walking and cycling routes being reduced to impassable bog? The answer, it turned out, was not to mourn the loss of summer but to welcome winter and explore all that it has to offer.

After all, hot chocolate is at its best when it also warms the drinker's stiff-frozen fingers. Long evenings free of summer activities are a gift of time to spend letting unread stacks of books carry my mind this way and that. And while winter may drive me away from the muddiest paths and trails, it also encourages me to investigate places I overlook in summer.

This winter, one of those places was Wolverhampton – in the empty days of Twixtmas. The trip was an excuse to catch the tram, and stretch our legs in a city we’d never visited. The day may have been thick with cloud, but we’d be broadening our horizons.

As we made our way from central Birmingham to Wolverhampton, it was difficult to tell from the urban sprawl where one city stopped and the other began. The tram crept along roads and beside railway lines, and was occasionally gifted its own green corridor. The conductor checked tickets. Groups of people stepped on and off at intermediate stops. And eventually we reached the end of the line. It was a slow way to travel between two cities, but we weren’t in a hurry.

We left the tram to wind its way back to Birmingham and strolled towards Wolverhampton city centre, past the forlorn Express and Star building. The newspaper was run by the same family for more than 140 years but has now been sold. The building that carries its masthead is to be redeveloped into flats, shops and a gym. Meanwhile, the newspaper itself seems to be descending into the same swamp of crime stories and clickbait that has consumed so many other local titles as their traditional business model – built on classified ads – collapses.

Local high streets are suffering too as shops struggle to pay their way. If they shut their doors permanently, everyone loses amenities that are easily accessible on foot. Having reached the city centre, we made a small contribution to the local economy: buying a packed lunch and hot drinks.

It was too cold to pause for long, so we traced the route back towards the Birmingham Canal and the start of our walk. The plan was simply to keep going until we’d had enough, then hop on the tram. The easy navigation along the towpath would be welcome for minds softened by days of Christmas television, and legs stiffened by too much time on the sofa.

Along the canal, the thick cloud was smothering daytime into a drawn-out dusk. A tunnel closed in around us, barely above head height. It felt appropriate for a city whose story starts in the Dark Ages – that period about which we can catch only glimpses. What seems clear, though, is that Wolverhampton began life as the estates of Mercian noblewoman Wulfrun.

Over subsequent centuries, the Staffordshire town – as it was before becoming a city of the West Midlands – found itself at the centre of the wool trade, lock manufacturing and mining. From the black of coal mines, forges and foundries, Wolverhampton fashioned prosperity. Out of darkness cometh light, as the city’s motto goes.

These words also remind us that the dark days don’t last forever, that even in the lifeless depths of winter new shoots are preparing to burst into being. And so it is that out of the wreckage of the local newspaper industry, new email publications are emerging (such as The Dispatch) focussed on slow, thoughtful and high quality journalism. Similarly, when my own town's only bookshop closed, the community responded by opening their own: a cooperative. Now a second bookshop has started up.

How can we find other ways to reopen closed shops, and for the high street to flourish? If ever there were a time to answer that question, it's now – in the long economic winter our town centres are experiencing. And that's because winter is not only a time for resting and renewal, but also for planning and preparation. Spring will come to weaken winter's grasp, and it’s best to be ready for the opportunities that it releases.

We walked on and talked about our own plans for the rest of the school holidays and for the year ahead – films to watch and trips to take, people to see. We’d arrive home full of ideas, ready to pull guidebooks down from the shelves and spread maps over the dining room table.

A few kilometres more and the last of the daylight was fading fast. Leaving the canal, we made our way to the tram stop at Loxdale and waited for our ride into Birmingham – into the darkness through which I've learned to see the light.