July 7th – Another desperately dull day, with not many photo opportunities. Sadly, I took a bunch of photos on the way home, and messed the settings up, so the only ones I have to show are the from the cycleway in Goscote again this morning.

I note we’re in for a fruitful year; not only are the apples plentiful, but cherries seem to be having a fine time, and haws look to be good, too; if the blossom is anything to go by I think we’re in for a bumper crop of black and elder berries too.

I love the dog roses, smelling wonderful in the post-rain humid air, and the cornflowers look superb too, in their thistle like glory.

Some much great stuff going on in the hedgerows – and all on one short stretch of path in Goscote.

July 6th – On an equally dull return commute, harassed by the threat of an oncoming deluge, I shot along the canal on the way home. Pausing only at the small patch of meadow – less than 100 square feet – at t eh top of the new pond at Clayhanger, I captured these midsummer soldiers: St. John’s Wort and the gorgeous thistle.

Come back sun, and make these soldiers shine!

July 5th – From Ogley Junction footbridge, long range shots of rabbits in the rain, grazing on the long grass beside the canal basin and just doing their thing.They look healthy and no sign of the Myxomatosis that ravaged the warren at the back of the Terrace last year. The scruffiness in their coats appears to be just where they’re wet from the rain.

A pleasure to watch, and so enthralling I completely forgot it was raining.

July 5th – An odd day involving a fair few errands. I set out early afternoon, hoping to miss the rain. I didn’t.

I had to nip to Chasetown, and as ever, the High Street looked great, but the sky, even when sunny, was threatening and grey. I was caught out both on the outward journey, and on my return. 

It was warm enough though, and bare legs dry quickly. Let’s hope next weekend is a little more temperate.

July 4th – Fully loaded with shopping, I pottered back, becoming slower and slower as my energy dropped. I was pleased to note, however, lots of new duckling families on the canal at Brownhills. There are mallard chicks from newly hatched to a week or so old, clearly all second clutches.

This summer seems to be favouring the wildlife, which is nice to see.

July 4th – Independence day, but sadly not from work. To my annoyance, called in on a fool’s errand at 12 noon, my plans for R&R were scuppered. However, taking the slow way back to Walsall, my weariness was cleared by the bright sun, azure sky and pleasant atmosphere.

Walsall has many faults and far too many detractors, but it’s not a bad old place.

July 3rd – I was wiped out. I’d had to sit on the floor all the way back from London, and my back was aching, and I hadn’t eaten enough – but New Street, for all it’s faults, welcomed me home with it’s hard surfaces and contrasting lights; and 30 minutes later, a real Late Night Feelings moment at Walsall.

Home is where the heart and teapot are. Oh, that first mug of tea!

July 3rd – As readers who follow me elsewhere will know, I have been extremely busy with work and other stuff in the last few weeks. Today was no exception and very heavy: I had an 2pm afternoon meeting near Eastbourne to attend, so I handballed my bike on the train, rode across London Village from Euston to Victoria, arrived at my destination – Polegate – and then took advantage of a great traffic free trail to arrive bang on time. 

In the early evening I returned, again crossing London, and got home near midnight.

I loved cycling in London – around Trafalgar Square, down the Mall – and I understand a lot more why the city has such a notorious cycling reputation: If you leave 3″ of space, there’s either a tourist, a taxi or a cement truck in there. You have to be assertive, attentive, and dare I say it aggressive.

But what a blast.

I have spent most of the weekend after knackered. Maybe I’m getting to old for this shit…

July 2nd – I cycled home in steady, warm rain – but the temperature had dropped like a stone. Coming out of work where the temperature indoors was still 35 degrees, stepping into the cold, fresh air was like entering a plunge pool.

The air smelled fresh though, and although the traffic was mad the ride was fast and fun. Hopping on to the canal at the Black Cock and over to Ogley Junction, a light mist was rising off the canal surface, indicating a surface-air inversion was on. Just as I got to Catshill, the rain ceased, and the sun started to come out.

Although it was dull, the greens – now entering the mature, darker stage – looked magnificent. But the panorama from Catshill Bridge: they seem to be taking forever to complete those flats.