October 16th – It seemed a little previous, considering it’s two weeks to Halloween, but as I waited at the lights at the Pleck Road/Bridgman Street junction in Walsall on my way home I spied this real pumpkin on the parcel shelf of the car in front. Nicely carved, too; beats a nodding dog.
It certainly made me smile.
October 15th – Victoria Park, Darlaston is an embarrassment of fungal riches at the moment. I spun through on a misty, wet morning where the only colour I’d seen was the red of brake lights, and noticed several brightly coloured types of fungi in the freshly mown grass. The orange curly one I’ve never seen the like of before, and I love the little yellow button. There was a plentiful supply of shaggy manes, too, which the grass cutters had clearly mown round when attending to the rest of the park. I liked that – a nice touch.
Such welcome colour on a dull morning commute.
October 15th – I hadn’t been down Station Street in Darlaston – at least the James Bridge end of it – for a while. What greeted me today was quite a surprise, to say the least.
Walsall has developed some odd traffic calming and management systems in the last few weeks; traffic engineers have gone mad with the Shellgrip at Rushall, and two streets in The Butts have become one way. Here, the stub end of Station Street – a short cut through to Heath Road – has been blocked to two way traffic at the Heath Road junction.
This seems bizarre in itself, but they have left a cycling lane open for us two-wheelers, although it’s possibly the most peculiar such arrangement I’ve ever seen.
It’s like an ability-testing obstacle course. I bet whoever laid this out hasn’t ridden a bike for years.
October 14th – I hopped on to the canal on my way back, and as the sky cleared, dusk fell. It was beautiful, in a quite understated way. I love the canal overflow at Clayhanger Bridge. I adore watching the flow of the water; powerful, noisy, yet soothing. Flowing strongly after a weekend of rain, I listened to it for ages. When you’ve been feeling under it for a while, simple things like listening to the rush whilst watching a decent sunset form can really pick you up.
I cycled homewards lifted.
October 14th – I was in Darlaston, and had to nip into Wednesbury, so I shot over King’s Hill on the way home. It’s a funny area, combining a post industriaair with pockets of modern commercial units and surprisingly beautiful old buildings. This one – the former Kings Hill Methodist Church is one such lovely old building. Sat on the edge of the glorious King George park, it sits unused. It was up for auction on the 5th October – wonder if anyone bought it? It would convert into a lovely home to someone with the imagination (and budget) to do so.
October 13th – After the rain had passed. It’s been a grim weekend, really; the weather has been atrocious, and I’ve not got any miles in to speak of, but I also felt flat. I’ve been pretty low now for a few days, and I guess it’s the comedown after a good summer. I’m not feeling the cold, but I’m feeling the loss of light desperately. I’d made plans for a ride or two this weekend, and not even entertained the possibility that the weather might prevent it. I suppose I got out of the habit. That’s what a good summer does.
Today, I spent the day getting things done I’ve been meaning to for a while, writing and reading. The rain more or less cleared by 6pm, so I went for a silent spin around Clayhanger, the old railway line and the canal, before doubling back through Brownhills. Other than the odd passing vehicle I didn’t see a soul, and it was warm and peaceful. Everywhere was drenched, and the world felt oddly silenced, like it was tired, or just fed up of the rain and now glad it stopped.
I know how it feels. Autumn is always really, really tough for me, but this one is really getting me down. It’s like sand in my gears, I feel it eroding me.
7th OCtober – Sorry, only just had time to sort this out.
This is a very close pass. He was agressive behind me at the lights, and didn’t appear to care how close he came. The back end was very close indeed. This actually scared me.
I cannot understand the necessity for such an aggressive manoeuvre, particularly at a junction where I have to be particularly wary of traffic from the filter at the left. I had full lights on at the time, and he pulled up behind me at the lights, so he knew full well I was there. Shocking.
October 12th – It’s quite hard to take photos on such a rainy day. You find all the good pictures are facing the rainfall, and because the light is poor, you need long exposures, usually resulting in the lens gathering raindrops. I stopped on the Pier Street Bridge to check out the golden streetlight on the canal surface, and managed to keep the lens dry enough to capture the narrowboats in their moorings. Spinning round and interested in the combination of light, wet surface and steelwork, I didn’t realise I had gathered the raindrops. But they worked out quite well, really.
October 12th – Lower than a snake’s knees. I had a mountain of other work to do, the rain was pouring most of the day and the autumn blues were really biting. I couldn’t get it on to write, or get myself organised. It’s fair to say I was as miserable as sin.
I went out as dark fell early, and shot up the canal to Chasewater in heavy rain. I blasted through puddles and threw the bike round corners and inclines to try to get my mojo back. It worked, for a fashion.
I noticed at Newtown near the A5 that the anti-vehicle gate – swinging unlocked for the past 6 or 7 years – has been wired shut with barbed wire by someone. This is not good – folk in mobility scooters do come down here and the gates are supposed to be locked with RADAR keys. I’ve never really been sure what purpose this one serves, anyway, as it doesn’t prevent motorbike access from either of the adjacent bridges.
I’m a bit concerned about this.
October 11th – One of the odder fruits of autumn is beech mast. Beech nuts have a pleasant flavour if chewed, with a green, dark and astringent taste; they grow in a prickly, hard rough burr husk that falls from the tree after opening. Since a mature beech is of a considerable size, the mast litter under such a tree is often deep, and has a distinct crackle when you walk or ride over it.
There isn’t a hint of moisture in the husks, which are hard, and they put one in mind of something prehistoric, perhaps the scales of some long-extinct dinosaur.
This example, along with several others is growing along the Lichfield Road at Sandhills. They are lovely trees.
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