December 17th – Last commute until 2013. I found myself having to visit a place in the backstreets of Small Heath, which gave me somewhere new to explore. Leaving the oddly desolate Small Heath station, I noticed the great view of the Birmingham city centre skyline from the bridge. There’s everything in there – the new library, Beetham and Alpha towers, Selfridges, the cathedrals and various churches. This really is a wonderful view, all with the perspective-defing railway before it. I love this city. I love it with all my heart.

December 16th – I went back to Chasewater in the daylight to investigate how the water levels were behaving, and to seed what was going on with the balancing culverts between the main lake, Nine-Foot pool and the spillway. It seems the sluice that was open from the Nine Foot to the spillway has now been closed, and looking at the output side it seeks very well indeed. Water should now continue to rise until it reaches the top of the breakwater on the left. This means there’s about a metre to a metre and a half to go before the lake is full.

Last time I checked the level, it stood at 6cm from the top of the lower metre scale on the pier. That was on November 25th. Today, on December 16th – a mere 21 days later – it stood at just shy of 58cm on the upper metre scale. That’s an increase of 48cm or about 19 inches in 21 days. This is astonishing, and is largely due to the heavy rains on already saturated grounds, causing runoff to fill the reservoir. I don’t think anybody ever thought such a rate of fill was remotely possible.

I noticed while I was mooching around the Nine Foot that the red deer had been and had a look before me…

December 15th – There’s nothing like being prepared. Parked up outside Tesco, Brownhills in the wonderfully impractical bike racks, I came out to find another steed sensibly locked to the trolley store. The bike was a fairly nondescript Apollo (Halfords) bike-shaped object, but was absolutely loaded with panniers and bags. In the water bottle cage, a can of Wilkinson own-brand WD40.

There’s nothing like being prepared…

December 15th – I went to Chasewater for the first time in a couple of weeks, but sadly, at dusk. I’d been up on the Chase (more on the main blog later) and returned over the dam. The water level must now be getting close to full. I had concerns that the balancing pipe system between the Nine Foot pool, main lake and spillway would dictate the overall final level, but the sluice between the Nine Foot and spillway seems now to be closed. I guess this indicates the final full level of Chasewater will be the top of the new breakwater overflow. The level therefore is now climbing up over the sluices, and I’m fascinated to see the lake bed reclaimed. This is like watching the recovery of a good friend from a grievous illness, and fills me with joy. The convalescens of a reservoir.

On the way back to Brownhills, I passed a row of narrowboats moored by the Anchor Pub. I have vague recollections of this at this time every year. Wonder if it’s a christmas party? Fascinating, and lovely to see.

December 14th – Just as I was getting into the swing of cold, bright days, along comes the rain fairy again. Today, the commute and riding was shocking. It was a dreadful journey to work; into a headwind, drizzle getting heavier as I went. It took 35 minutes to cycle what is usually a 25 minute journey, and I thought I’d just missed my train. Reconciled to a 20 minute wait at Blake Street, I was the only person around. Then, completely unlisted on the passenger information system, a train turned up out of nowhere, which seemed a bit odd.

The further I got toward my destination, the heavier the rain became. Tyseley looked grey and horrible, and nobody seemed to turn the daylight on at all. The commute home was equally dreadful.

I was cheered, however, to note that next week, it’ll be the shortest day – then the nights begin to open out again. Roll on Christmas, let’s have some nuts…

December 13th – I lost a good friend today. It was a cracking morning ride – I had begun to think over the summer that Britain’s weather had forgotten how to make the country look good, but in the last few days – and this morning particularly – I realised that it’s just been dormant, resting, hopefully for a grand performance to come. It was cold, and black ice lurked in hollows, gutters and on bends, but riding was fast and the sky gorgeous in the late winter sunrise. I took loads of pictures, then made late by my fascination, I hurried to work. Coming up the steps at Tyseley, I performed a bounce-test on my trusty Panasonic camera, which was inadvertently hooked out of my pocket with my gloves. The little wonder was no match for the steps, and the case broke and the internal optics were shattered. Since this time last year when it was new it’s taken about 14,000 pictures, so it really doesn’t owe me anything. With a heavy heart, I ordered another. 

Must be more careful in future…

December 12th – I had hoped for a few days of cold, clear weather – but it seems the mist and murk has settled back in. Still, I don’t mind as it makes for variety and the cold adds a welcome urgency to the commute. Today, I flew through the journey along icy backlanes, the hedges and skeletal trees dusted in rime. A peculiarly grey and silent day, it was an eerie commute, and the crystal-encrusted spiderwebs on the fence at Blake Street were fascinating.

December 11th – It didn’t take long for the mist to settle in, but even that was enjoyable. Just as well, really, as despite the promises of a new dawn, the London Midland train reliability is still lousy, even with the new timetable. 6 out of this week’s 8 trains so far have been late. I still love the sights and views of the railway. I’m not interested particularly in trains, but I love the slightly unreal, meccano landscapes they create, with vividly pronounced perspective, repetition and reflection. I love the impression of distance and connection they create, and of the illusion of solid control, like a huge machine.
The machine is broken, and deserves some love and attention, and a master who loves it, but it’s still a wonderful and oddly beautiful thing. 

December 11th – These are the days. I’ve waited for fair weather for ages. Such a change from the grey and drizzle, it lasted long enough for me to enjoy a lovely cold, crisp commute to work. Had it not been for the fact that I was already running late, I’d have cycled all the way into Brum. Grove Hill, at Stonnall looked wonderful, and the only cloud in an azure sky was the plume of steam from Rugeley Power Station. At Mill Green, the hoar frost was beautiful, and made magic everything it graced. I love rides like this.

We’ve maybe got another couple of days of this. Wrap up warm and go out – cycle, walk, whatever. I never love my world more than when it’s embraced by a fine winter frost.