March 1st – Aargh, that frustration – a great sunset and nowhere to get a good shot of it. Returning home tired and aching, dusk found me passing through Shelfield. Sadly, Shelfield is pretty flat and has no great viewpoints, sadly, and these images don’t really do it justice.

I bet it was a good one at Chasewater or up on the Beacon…

March 1st – Another grey day, but it felt warmer. At dinner time, I had to venture back into Walsall from Darlaston and took the canal, which was a mistake: the works to relay the towpath have made sections not impassible but hard going.

Passing over the Bentley Mill Way Aqueduct, I looked down at the works below. Running three months late, the road has been closed and totally relaid – but the main bottleneck that is the narrowness of  the bridge I’m standing on – has not been touched. I’m at a loss here to understand how anything other than the footpath and possibly drainage has been improved.

Sometimes it’s hard to see the benefit in road schemes until they operate in practice. I hope that’s the case here.

February 29th – On the return, I felt leaden. Clearly still not recovered, my stamina was non-existent and riding was hard, painful work. This cold has really got into my bones and joints and I ache.

Rounding the bend on the canal by Barrow Close in Walsall Wood I noted it was past 6pm and still not really dark, but the lights of the houses looked welcoming and warm in the half-light.

They made me want to be home and warm, and out of the cold and exertion – so I remounted and undertook the final slog home with grim, but renewed determination.

This cold can sod off.

February 29th – I know this journal is becoming somewhat old when I realise this is the second leap year it’s passed. I still find that peculiar, really.

Today was not so sunny, although there were patches of brightness in the morning. On the way to work I noticed flowers – primroses amongst a stack of cut logs in Kings Hill Park and marigolds in a roadside garden flowerbed. I still can’t believe this is happening in February – but given the coldness of the day, and keenest of the wind, it was welcome colour.

February 28th – Over the road at St. Anne’s Church, the architecture fascinates me. This is a building with a fantastic history, being the first church to be lit by electric light in the UK, powered by the coalmine down the hill, presumably in the interests of a mine owner’s place in heaven. But there is so much more to this industrial, engineering brick church, that looks so unassuming from the road.

Oh, the brickwork! I have never seen a church so obsessed with geometry in it’s design. Bright, bold, almost childlike… zigzags, mirror curves, crosses, diamonds, bands and profiles dance and decorate. It’s a constant delight and I spot something new every time I look.

If you can, please go see this wonderful building for yourself.

February 28th – A much nicer day, and I was getting over the cold at last. Still bunged up and with a mouth full of ulcers, but I had energy and the sun was out. I needed to pop to Chasetown, and called in at the wonderful St. Anne’s cemetery on the way back, currently a riot of crocuses. This spot is delightful and well worth the visit, and today, I was accompanied by a huge bumblebee, already busy in the flowers.

Can spring, light days and warm sun really be so close?

February 27th – A grey, murky day with little merit, which was OK really as I was so unwell I could barely make it out until late afternoon. I potter in the usual canal loop from Pier Street up to Wharf Lane and back down the Parade. I barely saw a soul. It was very cold, and the light terrible.

I’m so unused to typical February weather this year, when it happens, it’s an unpleasant shock…

February 26th – Really not well at all, I did a few hours of necessary stuff at work and crawled home mid-afternoon. I wanted a change, so I came over Church Hill, and stopped to take some photos while up there. 

Church Hill is one of those conundra that I find troubling. St. Matthews is as beautiful as ever, and the views would be splendid were they not obscured by mature, beautiful trees. I want rid of some of them for a better view, but I also don’t…

No sign of the peregrines on the bellcote, but this is the first time I realised you can see the Workhouse Guardian’s offices from up here – and they look better from such a distance, and also, terribly out of place. Marooned.

St. Matthews itself is suffering the rogues of the weather, and desperately needs some love. I hope the CofE can get around to giving this venerable old church a bit of love soon.