A secret garden awaits at the top of the library.
Birmingham boasts many 'hide-aways' and this is one of my favourites - an oasis in the hustle and bustle of city life. It is a place of peace amidst the busyness.
As I walk round the paths threaded through the garden an overwhelming scent of a huge clump of curry plants wafts in my direction. It's a fitting reminder of the great strength of this multi-cultural city. And then, looking out across the vista I see huge plumes of smoke rising up into the air. A fire in Smethwick, and a poignant reminder of Birmingham's industrial heritage.
I'm not alone in the garden. There are hidden glimpses of humanity everywhere - a grandfather and his grandson parked on a bench, a young girl and her grandmother looking out across the city, someone taking an early lunch, a man taking a phone-call.
Other wild-life has a place here, too - a bird-box peeps up above the greenery. If you do visit the Library make sure you don't miss out the secret garden. You won't be disappointed.
Phyllis Nicklin is Birmingham's very own, Vivian Maier - a photographer whose work only entered the public arena after her death. She was a teacher and university lecturer who documented the changing landscape of her home city in the 1950s and 1960s.
Birmingham Library is currently hosting a superb exhibition called, 'In the Footsteps of Phyllis' which places a number of her stunning pictures next to contemporary recreations by a group of local photographers.
Having seen all the changes going on in Birmingham at the moment one wonders what a similar exhibition might look like in fifty years time!
Birmingham, like so many big cities, exists in a state of constant flux.
I retired a little over two and a half years ago and already two major carbuncles on the face of the city have disappeared. The first is the infamous Birmingham Central Library, a monolithic folly in concrete that thankfully has been reduced to rubble. The second is the much loathed National Westminster Tower, a horrible dark-walled edifice which blocked out light, air and space for the neighbouring buildings over which it once loomed like some malevolent Grim Reaper.
It remains to be seen how their successor buildings will fare, but surely anything must be an improvement.
It is, however, the centre of the city that gives rise to most concern. New developments abound on the fringes but the heart has been hollowed out by a series of major retail closures. The vast Bull Ring complex now sucks in the majority of trade, offering what I understand is termed a 'shopping experience'. Cue a massive influx of coffee shops, prosecco bars and restaurants of every conceivable variety to plug the gaps left as consumers flock en masse to Amazon and other on-line retailers of similar ilk.
The hollowing out effect is amplified by the arrival of the much-heralded tram-system. Its biggest achievement appears to be the creation of a huge dystopian concrete river through the heart of the city draining what's left of Birmingham's character. It may be efficient, but the barren concrete savannah does little to improve the look or feel of the city.
So what else is happening? We take a trip to Birmingham's new library (a vast improvement on its predecessor, though already feeling the pain of Council spending cuts) and climb up to the first viewing balcony. Here's what we saw.
