July 12th – A much better day. I got on top of, if not actually beat my technical issues. My stomach was improving, and I didn’t feel quite so bleak. 

I spun out to Chasewater late afternoon, and rode the full circuit, which I haven’t done for ages. The sun was bright and strong, and the heaths and meadows rewarded me with bee buzz, grasshoppers ratting away, damselflies, birds and deer, as well as a wealth of flowers and fine views.

Just the tonic I needed.

July 11th – A bad day. Technical problems, IBS playing up and nothing going well, I finally made it out late in the afternoon and headed to Aldridge to get some shopping in. On the way, I spotted this superior looking fellow glaring at me from the opposite bank.

I often wonder what cats think must be going on over the water, in the place they can’t reach…

July 9th – I wasn’t particularly late back, but the golden hour seemed to settle in early, on a peaceful, mirror calm Catshill Junction. The new flats have balconies now, but still no sign of anything being done with the scrub and statue on the canal bank. 

On the towpath side, the buggers don’t seem to stop mowing at the moment – I’ve never known a year like it. It’s almost as if the moment an interesting flower pops up it must be cut down.

It never used to be like this. I’m convinced it’s just so the Canal and River Trust can look like they’re pro active whilst ignoring real infrastructure issues.

July 8th – An enervating, hectic day from which I returned late. Tired, aching and verging on a sugar crash, I relented and stopped for a rest and a few sweets at the small meadow above the new pond at Clayhanger. I’d caught it in a lovely golden hour, and I reflected on how this spot had changed. When I was a kid, this hollow leading to a sunken pond with tree-lined banks was a spoil heap standing a good ten feet above my head. Between then and now, the colliery spoil was removed, the area landscaped and allowed to mature.

Not all change is for the worst.

July 8th – on my return, late afternoon, crossing the Black Country Route at Moxley; that enduring, wonderful view of the church, rising above the bedlam of traffic and surrounding urban life.

And yet, the trees, too. The Black Country is surprisingly green when you open your mind to it…

July 8th – Another tick in the arrivals list for midsummer was added today: rose bay willow herb, or old man’s beard. I had to nip into Great Bridge from Darlaston, and spotted this interesting blue-finger variant on some waste ground. It’ll be a rash of colour for a few weeks, then fill the air with floating seeds.

Apparently, the leaves make a decent tea, and once skinned, you can bake and eat the roots. It’s a fascinating plant, but one that dwells on the fringes and is sadly ignored by most folk.