October 17th – The morning commute was damp, and a little drizzly, but it brightened up as I neared work. On the way, I noted the assortment of hips, haws and berries, glistening with raindrops. For the hedgerow fruits, it’s been a bountiful year, and the birds certainly have plenty in the larder right now.

A fine autumn; best I can remember for many a year.

October 16th – I’ve come to the conclusion there’s another swan family moved down here, probably from Aldridge. Nipping back into Walsall Wood on an errand, I spotted five cygnets and mum; they don’t seem as advanced in development as the Catshill brood, which are really quite white now, and these seem cheekier, and more unruly. 

Looking for food along the embankment at the back of Barrow Close, they were watched by a distinctly unamused bystander, a large, grumpy-looking marmalade cat.

There’s a story there, I’m sure.

October 16th – The patch of grass near Anchor Bridge in Brownhills is not something I ever pay much attention to, if I’m honest; it just exists, and it never occurred to me until recently how odd it is that it has never been built upon. 

It remains unspoiled, mowed regularly by the council, and separates the canal from the Lindon Road. There are a good few deciduous trees here and in Autumn, they’re beautiful.

An odd little patch of beauty in an otherwise unremarkable urban landscape.

October 15th – I returned to Brownhills late in the afternoon when it was again pouring with rain. This wasn’t everyday, lacklustre drizzle; this was dense, heavy rain that squeezed in through any not-quite-close zip or gap, and rendered me soaked. 

Once again, I found myself taking a breather on a bridge, just listening to the music – a rattling percussion, accompanied be geese honking happily.

Brownhills, you ain’t no looker; but that’s OK neither am I. But I do love you. Even on the horrid days like these.

October 15th – I passed through Churchbridge on the A5 between Cannock and Great Wyrley. This is a horrid, horrid landscape; there is no accommodation within it for pedestrians or cyclists, who do battle with it rather than inhabit it. The architecture and urban design is on a massive, non-human scale which dwarfs pre-existing houses and even the the electricity pylons.

This is not a place for those without a car. An utterly discriminatory piece of urban engineering. I hate it with a passion.

October 14th – I passed through Snow Hill Station early in the day on an errand before work. I hadn’t been there for ages, and scooting my bike across the access bridge, I was shocked to note the concourse had been retiled. I anxiously checked to see if the odd cat tile was still in place: I was relieved to see it was.

I have no idea why this hand-painted puss is here, but it’s clearly old, possibly rescued from the original station. Attempts to find out what it represents or commemorates failed.

I’m fascinated by this ceramic depiction of a cat. There’s a story here, if only I can find it. 

A lovely thing; so glad it endures.

October 13th – It rained heavily all the way home, and with a driving headwind it really wasn’t a pleasant journey at all. I hopped on the canal in Walsall Wood to escape the mad traffic, and stopped at Catshill Junction to have a breather as I often do. It was quiet, except for the music of rain falling on water. There was not a soul around, and even the houses in Chandlers Keep looked deserted. 

I was wet, cold and tired, but you couldn’t hate it like this. This was a moment of unexpected peace in a very grim day.

I got back on my bike, and rode home.

October 11th – I was intrigued to note at Chasewater what seems to be the Catshill brood of swans. Numbering 6 cygnets plus mum and dad, they are well into developing adult plumage now, and were on the main lake towards the north end of the dam. I’m not too alarmed that one appears to be missing, as I saw a single, lone cygnet on Friday at Clayhanger Bridge, so I think the family ties must be loosening now.

Later on, I noticed them proceeding across the lake in a stately line, the speedboats avoiding them.

I’m pleased to see them still prospering; it’s been a real joy to follow their progress this year.