January 6th – It felt good to be back on the bike. They afternoon was so pleasant, it felt like the storm was over both inside me and outside. The journey from Stonnall to just outside Lichfield via Hilton, Chesterfield and Wall was excellent.
The track is ‘Somewhere Nicer’ by Obi. It’s just how I felt. It’s great to be back.
Hi again.
Thank you for your kind words. I’m not in the art or design industries, no. Sadly, I have the artistic talent of a small brass bollard. I take pictures by experimentation, I guess. You don’t want to know the quantities I reject.
I use a mac because, way back in 2005, I just got fed up with messing with Windows and the alternatives on the PC were horrid. Vista was starting to come in and I hated it. In desperation, I bought an iMac and I’ve never looked back. It just works for me, that’s all.
Best wishes
Bob
January 6th – I feel one hell of a lot better. The stomach is settling, my sense of taste has returned and I’ve got itchy feet. I solved the latter problem yesterday by saddling up my favourite bike and heading down the back lanes to Lichfield. It was an experiment – still not eating a huge amount, I kept an eye on the energy and took it easy. I needn’t have worried. It was like a spring day. These lanes are old familiars, yet cycling and fresh air was new to me again. I dawdled. I stopped to look. I enjoyed the feel of the afternoon chill. I went to Lichfield, sat in a cafe, drank good tea and ate toasted tea cakes, then cycled home, including Shire Oak Hill without stopping. I slept well, but it’s a start.
I feel better.
January 5th – Further along the canal, overlooking the Barracks Lane/Watling Street island, traffic looked heavy tonight. It always amuses me to think that down in that valley, watered by the Crane Brook, overlooked by the foursquare Hammerwich Church on the opposite hill, the Staffordshire Hoard lay undisturbed for hundreds of years. Narrowly missed by canals, a railway, various road schemes and a toll motorway, the gold treasure lay undisturbed in a quiet field just to the right of this picture. As kids, we scrambled through this landscape, completely oblivious.
January 5th – The antibiotics seem to be working, but it’s a slow recovery. After spending the morning pottering about feeling great, I spent an hour or so of the afternoon with stomach cramp. There seems to be some kind of battle raging in there between normal function and the infection. It’s kind of interesting in a geeky way. Modern drugs really are a wonderful thing.
I snuck out again just before sunset feeling a bit grim, but the fresh air and exercise soon picked me up. I headed up Brownhills and onto the canal, heading towards Wharf Lane. I was wondering if there would be much damage evident from the high winds, but thankfully, there was none. Stopping to survey the favoured view of Home Farm at Sandhills, I noted that the lone tree that stands where Brawn’s wind pump used to be is still standing. That’s a relief; I tell the seasons by that tree. It’s a fine specimen.
January 4th – Another really, really windy day. One thing about being ill that’s not been too bad it that it’s been during some thoroughly lousy cycling weather. I was surprised, therefore, to note the guys recladding Humpries House – Brownhills last remaining high-rise block – were pottering about on their mobile platforms near the top of the building. Until I started to think about that, my stomach had been quite settled. My respect for those chaps is boundless. You’d have to anaesthetise me to get me up there on a still day…
January 4th – I had to go see the doctor. I still had horrendous stomach problems which I was only managing to abate with Immodium. I felt loads better in myself, but I was still having trouble eating. I’ve lost a whole bunch of weight since Friday, but I don’t recommend this as a dieting technique. What started as food poisoning seems to be a bowel infection, and I’m now the proud owner of a large box of antibiotics, which I’m praying will do the trick. Quite pleased that I cycled to the surgery, I took to the canal at Leighswood Bridge and cycled back home to Brownhills along the canal. Passing through Walsall Wood, I noted that Rod, the sculpted fisherman, is still bereft of Bob, his piscean prize. I take it replacing the fish that once dangled from the iron angler’s pole has been given up as a lost cause. Predictable, but sad.
January 3rd – It was at the southern end of the park I first heard it. An insistent, solid, two-pulse, one note, regular cry. Loud, actually, but until now, lost in the traffic noise and windrush. I dropped down into the base of the park and followed the calling. It was very nearly dusk, only the odd hardy dog walker or two around, and the persistent bird call, coming, as it turned out, from the dense copse in the northern hollow. What I think was a little owl (but I’m no expert on bird calls, it was certainly an owl) was calling out for all it was worth. I was in awe. Days of feeling lower than a snake’s knees, and then to hear such a bird a short ride away. Fabulous.
January 3rd – after a rough morning (the stomach still not giving me any respite, to be honest) I perked up in the afternoon and again braved the wind. Since my range and energy reserve were limited, I tacked round through Walsall Wood and let the wind blow me up through Holly Bank and Shire Ridge to Shire Oak Nature reserve. I hadn’t been here since spring, and the character had completely changed. Incredibly, the gorse was just passing through the far side of it’s second flowering, and the bogs and pools in the hollows of this former sand and gravel quarry had once again been enlivened by the rains. The thing that impressed me most, however, was the birdlife.
January 2nd – I finally plucked up courage just before sunset. I was still quite unwell, and am still suffering the upset stomach now, but I’d eaten a little, and wanted fresh air and the reassurance that I could still ride. It was very, very windy, and my energy levels pitiful. With the solid feel of my bike under me, I set off. Oddly liberated, I sped through Brownhills and back along the canal. I’d really missed this. The wind had been crafted on Satan’s anvil, but for once I just clicked down the gears and mashed through it. My energy didn’t last long, but I was back. I could do this again.
The sunset at Clayhanger bridge, and dusk looking toward the Jollier Collier Bridge from the Old Cement Works bridge made nice pictures.
Lying at home thinking, I decided I had to continue the 365daysofbiking project, to to make it fair, it had to start again from today. That’s the only way I can feel better about this, so I’ll continue.
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