December 16th – On my return from work, I hopped on the canal at Walsall Wood, and enjoyed the peaceful darkness as far as Anchor Bridge, where I switched back onto the High Street.

The canal was peaceful, silent, eerie, with only snatches of light in the darkness, my headlamp scything the night as I rode.

But riding in the dark is mentally hard work, and I hadn’t got it in me. For once, the road felt safer, so I took it.

December 15th – The cotoneaster this year seems to have not been doing so well. These bright red berries, beloved of blackbirds, are normal evident in profusion along urban towpaths, footpaths and cycleways, but for some reason are heavily planted on industrial estates.

This huge bed at Moxley is normally a sea of red-orange at this time of year, with a permanent fluster of wings and beaks. But not this year; I’d say the crop is abut 30 percent of it’s normal size.

Whilst my grandfather used to say ‘it’s always a good year for something’ I guess the reverse is true and this just wasn’t the cotoneaster’s year.I hope it’s not cold otherwise the blackbirds may struggle.

December 14th – Having arrived at work, I discovered I was needed in Telford, so nothing for it, I headed for the train. At New Street, there were delays and confusion and the usual busy, frenetic chaos.

I stood at the end of the platform, wandering what I was doing there. Every signal light I could see was red.

Some days wear you out before you start.

December 13th – Returning late again from Birmingham, this time to Shenstone, back to my beloved rural station. The weather was damp, but warm again and the riding was easy, which is just as well as I was exhausted.

This is the busiest pre-Christmas I’ve had in a long, long time: normally about now I’m winding down and getting stuff ready for the new year. This year I’m doing none of that yet.

I’ll be so glad when I finish work.

December 13th – On the canal near Bentley bridge, the gorse (or is it broom? I’m never sure) is coming into flower and bringing a splash of welcome colour ro a drab, damp landscape.

I love to see this flower – it carries me through winter and reminds me it won’t be long until spring flowers return. It also won’t be long now until the shortest day and once more, the opening out will commence again.

I can’t wait.

December 12th – On the way back into Brownhills, the air was a little clearer, so I stopped on Anchor Bridge for a classic nighttime Brownhills photo.

As well as playing about with aperture settings of late, I’ve discovered exposure compensation. Must say I think the darker image is the better of the two.

One day I must read up on what all these adjustments actually do…

December 12th – I can’t lie, it was an absolutely foul day for commuting; in the morning the temperature hovered around zero degrees and there was a surprising damp chill to the air. By my return in the evening, the temperature had risen and if felt warm again, but there was a constant foggy, misty drizzle. 

It was bad cycling weather. I’d had to nip into Brum as I often do at this time of year to drop a bottle off. The trains were bad on the way back, so I ended up getting a train to Four Oaks and riding back from there.

Only 7 more working days before a holiday. I think they’re going to be long ones. Hope the weather settles in time for Christmas.

December 11th – After a couple of years in limbo, I’m sad to note that after all the fuss and brouhaha, the old boating lake at Chasewater as just been filled in with earth and grassed over.

Staffordshire County Council, the park’s owners, couldn’t be doing with cleaning the water, so in a fit of typical reductive thinking, they drained the pond, left it empty for a couple of year and just filled it with earth that’s now turfed.

With no drainage in the concrete liner it will be interesting to see how this survives. One would hope they drilled the base. But maybe not. They haven’t even kerb edged the grass properly, so it will just die back and recede.

A botched solution to a botched problem that was really quite simple: it just needed good housekeeping.

December 11th – Nipping up to Chasewater to check out the Christmas Fair there, I spotted a familiar duck in the reeds near the Chase Road bridge.

It’s Mrs. Muscovy, the Newtown One. On the run (waddle) for nearly a year now, I thought the foxes must have had her as I’d not seen her for ages.

I’m glad to see this curious, singular, solitary duck is still with us.