March 6th – On roads across Cannock Chase, an experiment is underway. These wooden staves with white bags on top are a trial to see if they reduce vehicle-deer road collisions in the area.

It was discovered accidentally in the US that deer were apparently deterred by the sight of a white bag on a post, although nobody knows why, deer experts who’ve tried this have found it appears to work – it will be very interesting to see if the tactic works here, too.

My overriding feeling is the deer will probably get used to it, and they have to cross the roads somewhere, so I can’t see much long term benefit, but it’s a very interesting experiment and I salute the rangers for trying it out.

March 5th – I met these two interesting characters whilst returning in the morning from a trip into Walsall on an errand. I had planned to go to the annual bike jumble at Eddington, but my health was still not great and the weather – windy, with periodic showers – was so damned unpleasant, I just couldn’t be doing with it. Which is sad, but we usually get a better day for it.

Tacking into the wind, I decided to try the cycleway down the Goscote Valley on the way back, which was a bit of a mistake. Nipping down Cartridge lane to join the cycleway, both the donkey and horse were stood by the fence, so I said hello. The donkey was grumpy and walked away, but the horse happily had his nose stroked and seems sad when I made to go. 

That donkey is a lovely animal, but I don’t think it likes me very much!

March 3rd – Birmingham, late afternoon. I’d finished for the day and needed to get a few errands done, and while I was about it, check out the slow death of Birmingham’s affair with architectural Brutalism.

This grey, colourless day was the perfect day to survey the wounds being inflicted on the skyline by the cranes, breakers and cutters currently removing Madin’s Central Library and 103, Colmore Row. The demolitions are fascinating, dramatic, conflicting. On the side of the library, soon to disappear, the mural proclaims ‘Todos eat posible’ – all is possible. Survival for that mural isn’t, but change is a certainty.

Until dusk, colour only existed in bright demolition machinery and the hi-vis of the wonderfully nonchalant crane driver; but dusk brought the lights and glimpses of the other Birmingham.

I don’t know what I feel. Uneasy probably applies best.

March 2nd – Two very poor photos of Walsall Wood in a downpour. I was late back from work. It had rained most of the way home. It was cold, and the wind was brutal. I was dry under the waterproofs, though, and I just made a place I had to visit on the way back, so it wasn’t all bad.

Walsall Wood has a sort of soft, beautiful quality in the rain of a dark night. Villagey, yet urban. Energy and motion in the traffic, unstoppable, relentless, with somewhere to be, that isn’t here; yet it’s contrasted with the static streetlights, shop and pub glow and the son sheen of wet tarmac. 

I’d rather be at home. I’m still troubled by low energy, short breath and sinus hassle, but that’s improving; but the night was hostile and I’d rather be in the warm and dry.

So I ploughed home.

March 2nd – That old British adage ‘If you don’t like the weather, wait ten minutes’ was never truer than today. I’d nipped out of work into Moxley on an errand, and the heavens opened – not with rain, as it had been periodically most of the morning, but huge, huge snowflakes. 

I wanted to enjoy it. Riding was impossible as it was blinding. It was also rather wet. I took refuge in a cafe, ordered a brew and something to eat, and sat by the window until it cleared, just watching the snow fall.

Within 90 minutes or so, there was no trace it had even snowed. I wouldn’t have missed that for the world. There’s something very loose, transitory and impermanent about the weather of late. Not sure I like it much.