February 9th – At the junction of Coppice Road and Brownhills Road in Walsall Wood, the junction is being remodelled for the new leisure centre, now nearing completion. It’ll be interesting to see what the finished road layout looks like, and how it functions. This is a horrid junction for pedestrians, cyclists and small vehicles, and it seems a bad one for corner cutting and being cut off from the right – particularly when turning left into Brownhills Road. 

I’m watching this one with interest. I hate this junction and I hope the changes improve it as much as possible.

February 9th – Sad to note that at the south end of Victoria Park in Darlaston, beyond the railway bridge, flytippers have been at work. What is normally an fairly clean marshy area beloved of birds and bugs, a quantity of tyres have been dumped, clearly thrown down the embankment from the car-park above.

Only the lowest of the low do this. Scum.

February 8th – This was supposed to be a photo of the statue of Sister Dorothy Pattison, heroine of Walsall and a great personal hero of mine, moodily lit in a windswept town at closing time.

On that score it failed miserably. The old girl is out of focus, and the light doesn’t do her justice at all, which is sad. She was the mother of modern healthcare in Walsall and gave her heart, soul and life to caring for the Victorian sick, injured and infirm.

It does, however, show the atmosphere on The Bridge as I passed through. I’d had a dreadful commute again – driving rain and a headwind ion the way in that morning, and on the way back, the tailwind, although decent, wasn’t the engine-substitute I’d laboured against earlier.

A nasty gale was whipping up though, and there was a sense of increasing desertion and of collar-up, head down scurrying home.

It was fascinating and I wish I’d hung around a bit longer.

February 7th – On my return, I cycled back down the canal into Brownhills. My favourite tree near Home Farm at Sandhills is handsome even when bare, and it doesn’t seem long now until I see it in leaf once more – but there seems to be a lot of bad weather to go through yet before those warm, sunny spring days return.

On the towpaths, the mud has to be seen to be believed, and at Anchor Bridge in particular, the rotting leaf litter her has made a slimy, hazardous goop which is hard and unpleasant to ride through – until things dry out a bit, take care!

February 7th – A better day, but still grey and showery, with a building wind. I nipped out for a short run to Chasewater, where I noted the water level still rising and the valves still closed. It’ll be interesting to see if the powers that be let the water overflow again this year.

Over at the Chasewater Railway, I noted a new arrival – a rather unusual looking shunting engine with a very continental appearance. It’s carrying the Corus logo – once of course British Steel and now Tata – and from a little Googling I can see it’s come from the former Lackenby Steelworks, which closed a while back.

It’s an interesting thing and I’d love to know more about it. It certainly looks very powerful.

February 6th – I had promised not to moan about the rain again. But come on, it was rain all day from the moment I awoke until late into the evening. That’s not good. And again, that evil, evil wind.

I got out around teatime and did a quick loop of the town. There is something enchanting about traffic, electric light and rain, but I think I’ve seen enough of it.

All I want right now is a dry, calm and sunny spring. It seems unlikely. But I can always hope…

February 5th – Yet again on a Friday, I found myself cruising down from Shire Oak into Brownhills. The wind had indeed been evil, but was at least now more or less at my back. I had to stop to answer the phone on Anchor Bridge, and while I was chatting I noticed the view, from the very bridge I was contemplating the night before. This slope here is more or less continuous from Shire Oak, and the road here is wide. Where I was stood in years gone by would have been a toll house, and when I was a kid there would have been grim maisonettes here and over the road, a large tower block. Now, it’s new build and an old folk’s home.

These days, this view seems utterly familiar, but twelve or so years ago, it would have been totally different. It struck me as I put the phone away that change is ongoing, and so granular that one hardly notices it happening.

February 5th – I’d nipped into Brum late in the afternoon on an errand, and came back to Shenstone on a surprisingly empty commuter service. The wind was again building up and it wasn’t going to be a pleasant ride home. 

I love Shenstone Station. It’s like a lot of things in life – it was once truly beautiful, but is now aged, still beautiful, but weatherworn and a haunting reminder of something once glorious. At night in particular, it whispers of a more genteel railway age.

Leaving here on a Friday with a bad ride home to come, the one frustrating aspect is the steps. The northbound platform from which I alighted has no level access, and one must heft the bike up the steps, only to ride back down to the same level off the bridge.

It always seems a little bit pointless, like an assault course… but it’s always nice to be here.

February 4th – I came back to Brownhills late, and hopped on the canal from Walsall Wood. Leaving the towpath at the Anchor Bridge, I realised how odd the landscape is here. The canal, of course, remains level (473ft above mean sea level for the anoraks out there), yet the landscape rises above it gently, and the Chester Road crosses above with barely and undulation.

It made me wonder if the canal was channelled out here and what the landscape of the late 1700s looked like before it arrived. 

The night was chilly and blustery and I was tired. I suddenly realised I’d been stood for five minutes or more in pitch darkness contemplating the physical geography here absent mindedly, whilst freezing cold.

Cycling catches you like that sometimes.