October 2nd -It was a gorgeous autumn day – chilly, but still and the  the sun shone, it was warm on the face. I finally solved a pressing technical issue on the bike, then headed out to Middletn Hall for tea and cake, then up the canal to Tamworth and back through Hints and Weeford. 

It was the kind of ride that makes you realise autumn isn’t that bad after all, and in the golden hour travelling through Shenstone, with the church occupied and a service ongoing, even the looming dusk seemed magical.

October 1st – Autumn landed with a bump. A saturated, wet day, and a short break in the rain saw me head to Lichfield on an urgent errand – and I got caught by the rain on my way back.

The landscape was wet. I was wet. The skies looked threatening. But Stowe Pool and that view remained captivating.

I was back to where I am every winter – I don’t necessarily want to go out, but I have to. It’s an imperative, get fresh air, exercise, and engage with the outside world – for the good of my health: mental and physical.

Some things make even the most horrible trip out worthwhile.

September 30th – The rest of Birmingham, from Snow Hill to Soho, from Victoria Square to the Bull Ring, was carrying on regardless, as it tends to do – the architecture as ever was a joy, as were the crowded streets and very changeable weather. 

Birmingham has progressed massively in my lifetime. But I still adore it. It’s a wonderful place. 

Birmingham – please never stop changing.

September 30th – Right now, Birmingham is doing what it does best – changing. I was in Birmingham for a sunny, pleasant afternoon that felt like the last of summer, and I continued my fascination with the demolition of the library, 103 Colmore Row and the Birmingham Conservatoire. The Adrian Boult Hall is now gone, the library down to it’s last scraps, and 103 Colmore Row is forlorn and truncated, much like the memory of the architect who designed all of them, the great John Madin.

There’s no time for sentiment, because Brum so doesn’t do that; the engineers are driving forward the change in their machines, cutting, smashing and pulverising the modernism to dust. And it’s fascinating, from the jurassic appearance of a resting concrete cutter to the antics of a pair of experts in a cradle slung above the devastation like some hi-visibility acetylene and helmet circus act.

It’s stunning, shocking and wonderful to watch. But I’m glad Madin himself didn’t live to see the crushing of his big civil dream.

September 29th – The brightness increased at Tipton in the early morning, where I came across this wonderful bed of flowers. I don’t know what the blooms are, but they are absolutely gorgeous, a riot of colour and an absolute joy to stop and appreciate.

A few bees still pottered between the beautiful colours, and the scent was lovely. Not entirely what you’d expect when you hear the name ‘Tipton’.

I love the Black `country, I love this place with all my heart. And this is an example of why.

September 29th – A long morning involving a trip to Telford with a stop off at Tipton on the way. I set out in a damp, windy landscape, but there was clearly a better day on the way and the clearing weather lifted my grim mood.

Passing Grove Hill on the Chester Road at Stonnall, the sky was neatly divided between day and night, clear and cloud, bad weather and good.

And the light, clear, fine day was winning.

September 28th – Although not as dramatic, the following sunrise was also beautiful as I rode through Mill Green. I love the shape and drama of pylons and radio masts at any time, but against a good sky they always look fabulous,

It was a good ride into a challenging wind, which is developing an all too familiar chill at the moment.

The year really is closing in fast now. 

September 27th – It was clear when I left work that there was going to be a good sunset, and it reached it’s peak just as I hit Brownhills. An absolutely stunning sundown, I haven’t seen the like for a good while – the sky appeared to be on fire, with the dying red light reflected on the underside of mackerel clouds.

A great benefit of the shortening of the day is riding home in sunsets like these.

September 27th – I was lucky to spot this Japanese parasol toadstool fully open on Clayhanger Common on my way to work. They are generally so short lived that actually catching one fully open is quite hard to do.

When open, you can see just how these delicate little fungi got their name – fragile, with a pleated cap no bigger than a 10p piece, they’re one of my favourites.

Twelve hours later it will have disintegrated to nothing.