June 7th – Birmingham New Street. This is Birmingham New Street. All regular travellers through Birmingham’s derided main station will recognise that tannoy jingle. I have a love-hate relationship with the place; dark, grubby, overcrowded, a nightmare on a bike or for the elderly or disabled. Yet, unlike so many stations, the layout is logical, compact and easy to grasp. It just carries way too much traffic and we need a new station – possibly on Eastside – to relieve it, then maybe the platforms could be reduced in number and widened, some natural light could be let in. 

There’s history, here, too, but not many realise. The arches at the end of platform 2 and 3 are a remnant of the original Victorian Station, as are many of the retaining cutting walls. The signal box – a remarkable Brutalist style structure designed by Bicknell & Hamilton to resemble an electrical component, is listed and a wonderful thing. As developers tear away at the upper levels, the ‘regeneration’ (how I hate that word) of this much misunderstood transport hub will not solve any of it’s functional problems, but I’m still rather fond of the old dump, if I’m honest.

June 6th – The life I mentioned in the last post manifested itself in many ways. Birds sang, flitted and fought in the hedgerows. I saw a fox stalking near Lynn, and there were rabbits and even hares aplenty. After the deluge, nature was busy doing it’s thing. On the footpaths at Sandhills, Shire Oak, there was a profusion of snails, of several different shapes, colours and sizes. It made walking a unexpectedly challenging activity…

June 6th – My luck held. Arriving back at Shenstone far later than I expected, the ride was joyous in a post-rainstorm countryside that thrummed with life. It was a gorgeous, blue-skied evening, somewhat belying the poor weather due tomorrow. As I crawled up Shire Oak Hill, I noticed that the sun setting had cast an odd light behind the flats in Brownhills. Viewed across Home Farm fields, I still hate that new colour scheme. It looks unfinished.

June 6th – I left Darlaston late in the afternoon to head to Tyseley for an important meeting at short notice. This happened to coincide with heavy downpours, which I managed to avoid with an air of smugness that must surely come before a drowning. At 5:45pm, Moor Street in Birmingham was busy, and wringing wet in the midst of a rainstorm. At the other end of my short hop, I waited ten minutes for the rain to ease off. With all the gutter-less canopies, Tyseley is surprisingly hypnotic in the rain.

June 5th – In virtually the same spot as the deer, I spotted a kestrel hunting. It did that thing they seem to do; floating, almost static in free air, studying it’s prey on the ground with a gimlet eye, before thinking better of it and returning to it’s pylon perch. These are lovely, graceful birds that seem increasingly populous here. Or maybe I’m just noticing them more. Either way, they’re wonderful, and like the deer, I could watch them for hours.

June 5th – It was another miserable day, but the wildlife at Chasewater was showing well. There were several deer on the north heath, but it was this stray hind that caught my eye. Hanging around the railway line, she seemed to be after food, but didn’t sam to quite trust me. Coming quite close at times, the scene was spoiled, as it usually is in summer, by an idiot with a dog off the lead. 

June 4th – The disappointments of the day were compensated for handsomely by the herons on the canal. Even the darkest bits of the industrial Black Country – and I hit the Tame Valley Canal, which has some very grim bits indeed – was host to these fine fishers. Oddly twitchy, it was difficult to get any pictures, but this fine fellow obliged in Rushall. Death on two legs to it’s hapless prey, I must have seen ten or more of these dishevelled, rickety looking birds. Also prolific were the common terns, whose missile-like fishing skills have to be seen to be believed.

June 4th – The weather was spectacular, and Chasewater and it’s surrounds looked beautiful. The sun gradually emerged through the afternoon and the day got brighter. The flowers are gorgeous right now, and everything is just so green. After a frankly grim weekend, it’s easy to forget how lovely everything becomes after a few minutes of sunshine…

June 4th – A terrible day of botched plans and failed attempts. However, the riding was good. Heading out to Chasewater late morning, I noticed that as the abandoned swan nest on the canal near Sadler Road sinks, it’s now evident that they had eggs for sure. There seem to be three remaining, but some could have been lost to vermin and predation. I have no idea why they were abandoned. It’s silly, really, but this makes me very sad when I think about it. But it’s just nature.

June 3rd – The photography was as lousy as the weather. The light was grim and every interesting shot was into the rain. Splashing despondently along the canal to Chasewater, something caught my eye. There was, in the midst of the rain, a temperature inversion going on. It was colder than it had been for days, and the canal water was clearly warmer than the air, and it was gently, almost imperceptibly, generating mist. I stood in the rain, watching the steam form and disperse, mesmerised. There’s beauty everywhere if you look for it. Even in Brownhills. In the rain.