May 13th – Not a great day. Over to Telford early, then back to Tyseley. Transport worked well, but I didn’t get much done. The journeys were perpetually under the threat of rain – which largely went unfulfilled, thankfully. But there was sun. And spring. In Telford, a row of ornamental cherry tress provided a cascade of blossom. The canal cutting from Galton Bridge station where I changed trains was an emerald delight. Cowslips were quietly rioting in yellow on the embankment of Clayhanger Bridge.

Industrial environments aren’t what they used to be. Thank goodness.

May 12th – I have a horrid feeling that the three glorious days of the May Day bank holiday were, in fact, summer. Today was wet, but warm, so I donned waterproofs and hit Cannock Chase. It rained steadily for pretty much the whole journey, and the light was awful for photos. There is a huge spread of cowslips at Brindley Valley, and everything else was vivid shades of green – even Rugeley Power Station was surrounded by verdant pasture. The Chase was lovely, and peaceful, and I didn’t see another soul from Rifle Range Corner all the way to Seven Springs. 

Anyone would think humans were made of sugar… the forest is lovely in spring rain.

May 12th – Not often I see this. In fields just to the east of Penkridge Bank on Cannock Chase, a herd of about 40 fallow deer, grazing and browsing on the pasture. It was raining, and very quiet, and I think they were taking advantage of the generally human-free conditions. The herd was split into two groups, the other being in and beyond the treeline. 

I watched them for a good 20 minutes. A remarkable sight.

May 11th – As I returned, I passed a particularly intemperate Canada goose on the towpath, standing sentry on one leg. He hissed and honkey at me grumpily, and I couldn’t see why. Just as I was about to squeeze respectfully past, I followed his gaze. There, upon the opposite bank was his mate, and their brood of 3 (or possibly 4) goslings. She looked like she was still sitting. Those guys had cute in shedloads, and are the first goslings I’ve seen this season. Marvellous.

May 11th – I had to go to Aldridge in the afternoon. It was one of those intensely frustrating days when it was bright sunshine one minute, and raining heavily the next. I returned via the canal, always a joy. The view of the marina from Northycote Bridge was wonderful in the sunshine. It rained twice again before I got home…

Hope the warm weather returns soon.

May 10th – Spring is still going strong. Delightful flowers speckle the hedgerows, and the oilseed rape isn’t quite out yet on Home Farm near Catshill. Mrs. Swan still dozes the day away, hopefully on a decent clutch of eggs, and apart from the wind and rain (which are admittedly pleasantly warm), one might be convinced winter was finally over…

May 10th – A late afternoon run out on a very dull, miserable day. Brightened considerably by the performance of the wee rabbits up on the canal bank by the Lichfield Road.

Again, a little chap, but not the same one. He froze when he saw me coming. Sadly, he seems to have a sore on his back, but he looks fit and healthy otherwise. And he has a fine set of whiskers for a little ‘un.

This one is for that there  Linda Mason.

May 9th – The journey home was a tad challenging. I elected to return from Blake Street, to best employ the strong wind that had built up. When I got off the train, the rain was horizontal. Even with waterproofs and wrapped up, it was vile. I’m just glad it was mostly blowing me home, and not against me. 

Mill Green looked good, though, and this rain should provoke a growth spurt in the flora.

Let’s hope for a better day tomorrow.

May 9th – I went to Leicester today. This involved catching a train from Platform 12 at New Street. Platform 12 is rapidly becoming the platform nine and three quarters of the New Street, new start project. It’s the bête noire of the whole place – hard to get to by lift and without yet any of the benefits of the rebuild. To get to it using lifts involves a complicated route that would challenge Mario the plumber, but main access is from the still open old access bridge, which feels oddly end-of-days now. The advertising hoardings have gone, sections of false ceiling are missing and huge hanks of data cable hang in the exposed rafters. It’s grubby, dark, and people move cautiously and quickly past boarded up doorways, sheets of polythene and purposeful technicians in hi-viz.

Oddly, the cafes are still open here, due to the new units not being ready in the revamped side, but the pub is stripped. There’s lots of noise here, the death rattle of a once bustling place, being changed forever.