February 22nd – I returned to Brownhills on a bike with a deflating tyre and bad gears, wet and miserable. I passed Morris on the way home, and he looked sort of grey too, although being stainless steel, he tends to reflect his environment. 

I also passed a fox, who was wandering on the canal near to Cooper’s Bridge by the Watermead: he was wet through, with ears almost blown flat to his head. He looked fed up and wet, too. 

That clearly made three of us – the cyclist, the statue and the fox.