January 3rd – Ah, that prickly, uncomfortable time between New Year and starting work again. Once you get back to the grind, Christmas seems a long way off and life gets back to normal quickly, but in the interregnum between festivity and workaday occupation, things feel otherworldly and disconnected. I hate it.

The nights are opening out though, which is good; the weather hasn’t been great, particularly that morning, and I can’t seem to get anything done, which is a pain, but everything must pass.

I spun into town for a few items and some fresh air, and swung past St James, the parish church of Brownhills. I’ve always found it stark and austere, and the extension added in the early 90s (in the foreground) is, to me, hideous. But the church is the heart of Brownhills, or at least Ogley Hay, even if most of the surrounding community seemed to be Methodist.

The sky was a deep, azure blue and the moon was nearing full. It was quiet. Not a bad night to be out, but my heart was elsewhere.

I’ll feel better when I’m back at work.