January 11th – Another rare daylight commute, so again I took the canal into Darlaston. On my way I became aware of a series of yellow marker paint spots on the towpath, and it took me a little while to work them out.

The canal towpath here is to be resurfaced soon, and disturbed soil in places pointed up the fact that someone had been surveying. Markers near the bridges indicate a gas main runs alongside the canal here, and the spots indicate the position of the pipes. At the old arm crossover near Haniel, the pipes emerge and cross the disused inlet, and one can observe the spots follow it’s course.

This part of the towpath would benefit a little from resurfacing, but it’s nowhere near as bad as the stretches through Aldridge and Pelsall. The resurfacing policy is absolutely baffling.

January 10th – It seems the old Oak Park is finally coming down – after a sizeable fire in the derelict building last week, the council have at last acted decisively and it seems we will soon be rid of the old building and the antisocial behaviour it’s encouraging.

Built in 1974, it’s a bland, post Brutalist structure in pale block, but like many, I have memories here, and although we have a great new centre not 100 yards away, the change is tinged with just a little sadness.

It’ll be interesting to watch the building come down.

January 10th – Sadly, my commuting life right now isn’t terribly varied. I’m seeing a lot of dark urbanity, stations, later and earlier. Apologies. Finding variance in a busy January when you don’t see much daylight is always hard.

Passing through Birmingham New Streetin the evening, I found myself at the same platform as the steel horse sculpture that forms the first in a chain of 12 along the line side to Wolverhampton. 

Erected in 1987 and designed by Kevin Atherton, the Iron Horse project put similar horses in different motion positions alongside an urban railway line, to appear as if the train you were on was losing a race with a horse. Some jump, some buck, canter or trot. They are warm, lifelike, and softly amusing.

They have fared well and not dated, and are one of the great curiosities of Birmingham and the Black Country.

January 9th – Later in the day, back in the Black Country, I had to be in Walsall for an appointment, and rode up the canal from Darlaston. It had been raining, and everything was quiet, but near Bentley Bridge by the old Anson Branch, I couldn’t resist crossing the canal bridge to give this cheeky beggar some of my pocket corn stash. One of the 2016 cygnets, he (or she, I can’t tell) is maturing well and in fine fettle.

I note the aggressive begging technique is coming along well too…

January 9th – Waiting at New Street early in the day it seemed people were not yet about – I saw very few as I loafed idly, waiting for my train. Despite continual work here, little has changed in the last 12 months – the grim 80s exit bridge has had one end tarted up but it remains ugly and badly conceived; likewise the shiny tinfoil covering to the upper floors, covering only the bits that can be seen from outside the station. 

Despite the continual aesthetic tweaks – panelling here, lights there, the odd new bench or seating area – little really changes in this urban, brutalist bunker. It’s a fleeting place, transitory for most. But stand here for any length of time and you’ll realise how little;e has been done to actually improve it.

New Street Station is not new. It’s just now got a retail opportunity on top. The station itself remains as dysfunctional as ever.

January 8th – Still periodically bouncing the strange bike to test the forks, I took it up Catshill Bridge to try it over the drop on the way back down. When up there, I realised the low cloud was making for interesting colour in the night sky, so set the camera on the parapet and let it do it’s thing.

Not a bad picture, really. Streetlights have a lot to answer for…

January 8th – A miserable day, to be quite honest. I’d had plans, but I awoke late, and by the time I’d got the day’s jobs finished, the weather had turned drizzly, wet and unpleasant, and my plans for an afternoon riding over to north Warwickshire were lost.

I slipped out as dusk fell on a test ride, instead: I had stuff to do in Walsall Wood and Aldridge, and after a weekend monkeying with a bike with suspension, getting the damping control and lockout sorted, it needed testing, which was a good excuse for some restorative exertion.

On my way back, I passed Aldridge Marina, which looked rather wonderful in the thinniest, most insubstantial of mists. The combination of that, sodium light and woodsmoke made the scene magical.

Not a lost day, by any means, but not one I enjoyed much.

January 7th – I love inversions, when mist rolls off water low into the air. I don’t see many these days, and certainly none as dramatic as those from my childhood, but the character of the area has changed so much in 40 years that I shouldn’t be surprised, really.

I was out after dark and noticed fleeting, transitory clouds of mist forming over the canal at Silver Street, intensifying, then disappearing. It was stunning.

I tried to photograph them as best I could, but this is really something you have to see first hand…

January 7th – Out and about today on various errands, I spotted a rather muddy rugby match going on at the club in Chasetown, just on the edge of Chasewater. I’ve never been much of a sport spectator, and know little about rugby, but looking at the assembled crowd, the mud, the barked instructions and the seriousness, I could tell this was important.

I have no idea who was playing, or who was winning: but to be out there in that mud, chasing a ball and getting pulled around bodily by strangers, I developed an instant admiration for these guys.

There seemed to be a spirit here one doesn’t see much in football; a willingness to get stuck in at whatever cost. It’s quite impressive.

I watched for five minutes, but had to be home. I must return though, as like village cricket on a sunny summer afternoon, there was a magic to it I’d love to explore further.