Birmingham, you are my sun.

Birmingham, you are my sun.

The earthiness coming through Duddeston on the train is like no other, real.  People, my people.  The drunks dancing to calypso played by the busker near the Rag Market, the woman with the gruff voice talking about “the only man”, the sun was shining.  Today I was with my “market family”, you should join if you feel like it.

Now’s the time when the stalls are still affordable, before gentrification.