January 1st – This is… extraordinary. I came upon it out of pure, unbridled nosiness.

As you travel down the Chester Road from Shire Oak towards Stonnall, just within the boundary of Fishpond Wood and the old quarry, there’s a gated track.  

As a kid, I was told there were cottages down there. Having seen a building on Google Earth, and occasionally seeing people pull out of the driveway, I paid it no mind.

But in recent weeks, there has been a pile of flytipped refuse in the track gateway, containing structural asbestos. I was wondering how the people here were accessing their house and if it was still lived in – I could vaguely remember seeing bins out for collection here, but not for a good while.

Passing the drive, I took a dive down there on my bike. It’s long, downhill, maybe ⅓ mile. With a large, derelict house at the end. A house once worth over half a million pounds.

It has clearly only been vacated in recent years, and is a rambling, oddly extended place with a wish-mash of extensions and levels, with one of the most bizarre fireplace arrangements i’ve ever seen. in it’s day it was clearly some place, but not now. Now, just vandalism, decay and eerie loneliness.

It turns out from subsequent research the place is owned by a developer, after the elderly couple who lived here vacated the place. Permission has been granted since 2013 to replace it with a large, new family home. 

You can read about this, and some of the backstory in this Design & Access statement from the Lichfield Planning Department here.

Right now, it’s clearly a vandal magnet, and a target for flytippers. 

A very curious thing indeed.

December 31st – Well, another year gone under the wheels and it’s not been a bad year. My health has been generally improving, and we didn’t have a bad spring and summer. The autumn was spectacular, and just this wet, oh so warm and wet winter has been wearing me down.

This evening, drenched and wind-battered at Catshill Junction, I stopped to reflect.

Despite the webbed feet and permanent patina of mud and wet grit, I feel happy I’ve seen it trough – coming very close to four years of cycling every day, and a few months off five years from when I started this journal.

I didn’t get in as many long rides as I planned, but commuting has been consistent, and I’m still enjoying being part of the environment that surrounds me. And all the way I’ve had you guys along with me.

Happy new year to you all – lets hope for a dry new year. May there always be wind at your back, sun on you face and speed in your wheels.

Here’s to 2016, and the return of the light.

December 31st – Remember the peculiar fungus I found a few weeks ago on Clayhanger Common – the Rosy Earthstar? Well, today I passed the same spot again and stopped to have a scout around. It seems that there were a whole bunch of them here – now the leaves have gone and the undergrowth is less dense, it can be seen there were at least 25 of these remarkable fungi.

Interesting too to see how they go over, seemingly with the ‘petals’ of the star rotting away first.

Hope we get them again next year and this wasn’t just a fluke. I’d love to watch them grow.

December 30th – As I noted ten days ago, the sunset was now advancing from it’s nadir of 3:53pm. Since then the figure – top right on the bike computer screen – has advanced to 4pm. We are winning the battle, the darkness is in regret – we’ve gained seven minutes, and the gains now will only increase. A reason to be cheerful.

I noticed yesterday in Chepstow the sunset was as late as 4:07pm. Maybe I should move south for the winter, like some of the birds…

Note one unchanged thing, though: The device is still spattered with raindrops.

December 30th – I had to go up to Walsall Wood all day. The weather – in complete contrast to the day before – was dreadful. More heavy rains and high winds, as if we haven’t endured enough.

I finally got down to it and called in where I had to after darkness fell. When I arrived, the rain had been soft and drizzly, but when I emerged, it was heavy and harsh once more. 

Glistening in electric light, it did at least look beautiful.

December 29th – Three and a half suspension bridges in one day, cycled two and a half of them. Not sure you can do that many places except the Severn Estuary.

Why the half? Well, the original Severn Bridge is two bridges, really – a huge, remarkably elegant structure over the Severn, and a second immediately to the west over the Wye to Chepstow. To me they are separate structures, as they have markedly different designs, but the Wye bridge doesn’t feel quite eligible.

It’s also a historical tour of bridge evolution – from the early Victorian, beautiful Clifton, so extravagant construction halted because Brunel ran out of money, to the beautifully minimal Second Crossing, one can see shifts in technology and materials, even between the latter two.

I rode the Clifton, The Severn and Wye – and I’m not mad keen on heights. The wind crossing the Severn was astoundingly strong, but the experience was unforgettable. Such wonderful views, great technology and the wonder of genius used to create, not destroy.

My particular favourite were the hundreds of Stockbridge Dampers fitted to the supporting ropes on the Seven Bridge. These are an anti-resonance device and stop the cables humming. They are a wonderful real-world example of harmonic mathematics in action, and it is are also fascinating to see how they’re carefully tuned.

An unforgettable day. More on the main blog later.

29th December – I took the train to Bristol on what promised to be one of the few decent days this holiday to check out the Clifton Suspension Bridge, see the Second Severn Crossing and cross the original Severn Bridge to Chepstow – you can’t cycle the Second Severn Crossing as there’s no pedestrian route, sadly.

Mission accomplished. More on my main blog later.

I got there early – a great day, sun warm on my back and so temperate, no need for gloves most of the day. A fairly strong southerly also helped at my back.

One of the biggest shocks was the cycling culture in Bristol. Huge numbers of machines parked up at Bristol Temple Meads, a handsome, wonderfully bonkers gothic edifice that oozes class in a way Birmingham New Street could only dream of. Segregated cycleways in many places, a fantastic river trail and plenty of parking provision.

My only complaint is some of the routes could be signposted better.

It made for a hugely enjoyable journey, and made me lament the awful state of municipal cycling support in Birmingham.

December 28th – I’ve heard of this before, but never seen it. In the Three Spires precinct in Lichfield, as dusk fell, a barely-noticed commotion of bird fuss broke the gentle susurration of continued consumerism below. One single tree out of several, decorated in Christmas lights in a fashion that must have taken someone bloody ages, what must have been a hundred or more pied wagtails.

I’d heard they flock. These nippy, twitchy little birds live off bugs generally, and are a common sight in car parks and factory yards and other areas of open hardstanding where they can hunt unhindered, but usually in ones and twos.

I don’t know if they came for the berries, or just a party. Certainly, nothing was bothering them. A remarkable sight I was lucky indeed to see.

December 27th – A cruise around Brownhills in the dark of a damp but moonlit night was odd. It didn’t feel like Sunday, in what must be considered the perineum of the year, this netherworld between Christmas and the return of normality at the turn of the new year. It felt like nowhere – there were no people about, the factories and homes were quiet. Only the pubs showed life, and the open, but deserted takeaways on the High Street.

This time of the year can either be really enjoyable, or purgatory. It’s never middling.