January 29th – I came home fairly late and had to pop into Stonnall. Coming back up the hill was hard – I have a cold and my energy was nearly gone. But there’s something about reaching the Shire Oak junction – maybe it’s just being at the top of the hill, or the fact that it’s all downhill to Brownhills from here, or maybe just the welcoming lights from the pub – that’s almost cathartic.

The working week ended here, and it was a soft roll down into the weekend, sleep and a good deal of rest.

Bring it on.

January 28th – In Telford, beside the Hortonwood cycle track, a fine crop of toadstools is growing. I’m n to sure what these beige, delicate little caps are, but they don’t seem bothered by the rain and frost. I assume that they are, like many things, caught out of season and shouldn’t really be growing in January.

They don’t seem troubled by the frost, though… a little bit of perfection on the way to work.

January 28th – After the recent warm, damp weather, a quiet wind, and cold and clear sunrise as I headed down through Mill Green, I’ve been very lucky with sunrises in the last few months, and it’s good to se them.

A beautiful sunrise holds wonderful promise for the day ahead; it makes you happy inside, and in these generally wet and grey days, a bit of beauty is so very welcome.

January 27th – Awful day. Horrible commute in rain and a headwind, loads to do then I had to nip into Birmingham. Coming back, New Street was rammed, the train back was awful and I just wanted to be home.

The top photo really illustrates the hogwash on ‘Grand Central’ – or the ‘remodelled’ New Street. The platforms are still cramped. It’s still very, very dark down there. The new cladding only covers bits that can be seen from the street. And nothing has been done to alleviate the terrible train congestion that dogs the station.

Climbing off at Walsall, I was expecting a following wind, which didn’t show up. But Walsall Station, splendid in it’s isolation, was as haunting as ever.

Those Late Night Feelings again.

January 26th – Ah, hello rain, you’re back.

Passing through Walsall to make a call on my commute home, the heavens opened. For what seemed like the thousandth time this year, I got wet. But the rain was warm and the wind was behind me, and it didn’t last too long.

However, I did catch it whilst in Park Street, in the town centre. Something about the light and surfaces combined. I though it was rather beautiful.

January 26th – Jasper Carrot fans will know the familiar comedic cry of ‘I got this mole!’ but for the past week or two, a grass verge in Darlaston has had a fairly industrious chap digging beneath it, and he’s making me curious.

The verge is isolated by roads, a wall and a factory yard. Yet on this 100 square meter green oasis in a sea of hardstanding, a mole throws up fresh molehills every night. Nothing unusual in that, you might think; lots of places have moles. That’s very true – but how did he or she get here?

Do they travel over the surface to find new territories? Do predators perhaps carry them away, and the lucky ones make an escape? How did my worm-munching mate get onto this little patch of grass?

Suggestions welcome.

January 25th – There’s been a bit of a running debate lately amongst friends and family about just how much one should clean a bike in winter. I must admit, I’m from the ‘Only clean when the crud is ~25% of the total weight of the bike’ school, but others differ.

Visiting a client this afternoon, I checked out the bikes parked in their bike rack. This clearly well-used semi-hybrid has a fairly clean, well-lubed chain, but oh – the caked mud on that front mech is crossing a line.

That thing really needs some mudguards – all the mud from the back wheel that isn’t doing a skunk-strip on the rider’s jacket is being dumped on the chain and front mech.

January 24th – An awful image, snatched at dusk through a hedgerow at Newtown, Brownhills: four red deer females loafing and grazing in the field between the canal and Chase Road.

After years of seeing them around Brownhills, I’m still not over the frisson of noticing them: they feel so out of place and exotic, even though this is their home.

A lovely thing on an otherwise dull day.