March 12th – The Black oak bridge has been in a grim state for a while, having recently lost some of it’s guard rails. When I noticed last week that the bridge was to be closed today for repairs, I was interested to see how the people repairing it overcame the problem of the the rotten angle iron rail supports that hold the guard planks up.

It seems we’ve been visited by Bodgitt & Scarper. When I crossed the bridge tonight, I too a look at the fix. The planks were only painted one side, and not cut or erected very well. On the northern side, they aren’t fixed to the uprights, but fresh supports have just been hammered in between the top and bottom rails to do the same job. 

It’s a fix, of sorts, but it isn’t well executed, and on the northern side, will probably fall apart at the next vehicle scrape. I know the Canal & Rivers Trust – formerly British Waterways – are short of cash, but there’s little excuse for such poor work.

Disappointing, I’d say.

Mach 11th – A remarkable, and strange day. Periods of bright, clear sunshine interspersed with sudden, sharp and heavy snowstorms. They’d last for 15 minutes, then the sun would come out again. All the while, a bitter, biting wind came from the east. It really was viciously cold.

On the way home, I boarded a train at Tyseley in a blizzard, then ten minutes later cycled through Birmingham City Centre in bright sunshine. Coming home from Shenstone with the wind (thankfully) behind me, the sun was bright, but the sky to the easy was dark and threatening.

I sped home, hoping to avoid any oncoming snow – thankfully, the sky didn’t fulfil it’s promise. 

An odd day to commute, and little sign of spring, although the light was gorgeous.

March 10th – I do like to see folk getting stuck into their food. This chap, clearly immersed in the dining experience, is one of the Chasewater cattle, today fed with hay in a stall. He seems to have used his horns to break the bale open, and become somewhat entangled. I bet that thatch is quite warming.

A bit like me and spaghetti. We never went back to that restaurant…

March 10th – Catapulted back into winter, I set off to work off the excesses of the previous evening. It was a cold morning, with a biting east wind, and it was snowing well. I had somewhere to call in Burntwood, then I wanted to go for a decent spin. I noted on my way that although it was wintry, it looks like the swans who abandoned their clutch last year at Catshill are nesting again, in exactly the same spot. That nest is clearly being built up again – let’s hope there are cygnets this year.

Another returnee is Bob the narrowboat. Occupied by an artist painting watercolours, he was in the same spot for a short while last year, and was previously up at Longwood Junction, near Walsall. Sightings of Bob the Boat have been an in-joke on social media for a while, now. It’s good to see it back.

Chasewater itself was more like Prestatyn on a bad day. The water was choppy and there were few folk about. At the water margins, the breakdown of vegetation newly submerged was being accelerated by the waves, and making the periphery of the the reservoir frothy and soapy.

The level is now 4cm off full, and the water in the Nine-Foot Pool is now really close to overtopping the weir. Absolutely unbelievable, really, considering the lake was virtually empty this time last year.

Spring is getting ready to go; only the weather is holding it back. Let’s hope this is winter’s las breath…

March 9th – Later on, in Lichfield, I cycled around the periphery of the market as it was winding down. There is a sad and unexpected joy here, that really shouldn’t be occurring. The cobbles here – laid only in 2006 at a cost in excess of £1,200,000 – are badly executed and in an apparently poor grade of York Stone. They have, in patches sunk – despite the relatively light traffic; about 40% are loose and rattly, and many have broken up due to frost, water ingress and abuse. As a consequence, when you ride a bike over them, it is to an accompaniment of rattles, clicks and clatters that really are joyful. 

I doubt I’d find the enjoyment so great had my own borough council paid so much for such a dreadfully poor job.

March 9th – Although the weather continues to be poor,spring is starting to roll in. I noticed today Lichfield Lore publicising an open day at Christchurch, in Leamonsley, near Lichfield. The church in question is my favourite in the city, and is secluded and beautiful, and aI think little-known. When I drifted through today, the churchyard was full of snowdrops and crocuses on the verge of breaking in to bloom. Everywhere, daffodils are in bud, too.

I’d never been inside Christchurch before. It’s gorgeous, and well worth a visit. A real hidden gem.

March 8th – There’s not much, photographically, you can do with a day like this, except record it as it was. For the second day running, it was wet and foggy. The traffic was still acting strange, and I was glad to get home. It’s not really cold, and the cycling was surprisingly good due to the still conditions – but the flat, grey outlook, devoid of decent light, is relentless.

Please, spring, come back! What on earth did I do to scare you off?

March 7th – Meanwhile, on the Walsall Wood-Shelfield border, Green Lane is currently in a sorry state. There is flytipping in various spots, and the litter is building up, too. My contempt for the scum that do this is immeasurable. However, the first undealt-with dumbing begets more; and so it has been. At the entrance to the Sewage Works, the main barrier, which put an end to regular violations of the driveway, has been stolen, and the tipping problem returned there, too.

The whole lane needs a good clean up and the selfish bastards who dump rubbish and drop litter need stringing up by their toes…

March 7th – Today was grim. The commuting weather was as miserable as it gets. It felt quite warm, but there was a persistent rain of the kind that hunted out the gap between collar and neck, or any slightly-open zip. The traffic was mental, and everything seemed to be functioning half-asleep. 

Coming home from Walsall Station, I noticed the taxi rank at the side of the station seemed to be afflicted by the wet-day madness, and I found myself waiting at the lights at Rushall Square, stoically bracing for some idiot to cut me up.

I’m sure there’s valuable research to be done on why many drivers brains turn to porridge in wet weather. A real puzzler.