March 21st – I returned from Walsall in the beginnings of a storm of wet, heavy-flaked snow. It soaked through my jeans, and made me cold, wet and miserable, a mood not helped by the utterly relentless and unforgiving easterly headwind.
Walsall Wood church looked good in the cold night, and the lights of the new Co-op store on Streets Corner – only opened that morning – were cheering.
March 21st – I was in Birmingham late for a meeting with friends. I’d had a horrendous commute from Telford, but not as horrendous as the poor lady who fell ill on my train, resulting in paramedics being called. There but for the grace, and all that.
I steeped into my favourite cafe for an hour, then hopped back about 9pm. New Street Station is odd at night. Again, a slight Late Night Feelings thing, but moreso reflections, distorted perspectives and hard surfaces. This is an utterly man-made environment. Any natural part of it is trespassing, or growing in defiance of the built environment. In the desolation of the night, I find it bleak, harsh, and quite, quite beautiful
March 20th – A day so dull, grey and lifeless that not even it’s mother could love it. As I hurried to work in the morning, it was half drizzle, half very fine snow, and bitterly cold. When I left for home, it was the same. Taking account of the wind, I came back from Shenstone, but even still, the bike felt leaden and I was tired. Things really aren’t letting up at the moment; the weather is awful and work is hard. If only the sun would shine…
Nature is holding it’s breath. The daffodils are ready to go. Nascent crops are greening up the fields. All we need are a couple of days of sun and clear air and nature will explode into action. You can almost hear it, tapping it’s foot impatiently.
I’m waiting with mother nature, too. This winter has to break soon…
March 19th – Whilst at Catshill junction admiring the cat, I noticed that Humphries House, the Brownhills tower block recently refurbished by Walsall Housing Group at no small expense, seems to have the boys in again.
It seems access cradles have been installed again on the front of the block. That must be costly. Wonder why? Anyone know?
Perhaps they’re feeding the mice…
March 19th – I was cycling back along the canal for a change. Spring must be in the air, as cats have started to be more noticeable of late. Indolent indoor wallahs in the winter, you see lots more about as the season changes.
I spotted this fine marmalade chap drinking water from the canal at Catshill Junction, appropriately enough. Cats seem to prefer natural water to the stuff from the tap, and this must be a sign the canal is clean.
The elegant, nonchalant balance and casually draped tail are wonderful.
March 18th – A day of misty light and skyline silhouettes. My journey this morning was shrouded in a thick fog of the variety that condensed into frost on my clothes and bike, yet once on the train to Birmingham, it was as clear as a bell and sunny by Four Oaks.
At Moor Street, the morning light was hazy and yellow. Digbeth looked beautiful as the train glided above it on the viaduct towards Small Heath.
I left work late, and caught the view from Tyseley as darkness was falling. Again, the light was lovely; the city skyline was enchanting, and the station remains fascinating in its faded, jaded, days-of-the-empire style. Down on the platform, as a high-speed intercity shot through, I really got the Late Night Feelings vibe again.
Jewels in an otherwise awful day.
March 17th – I haven’t seen the local deer for a while. I know they’ve been about from the reports of others, but my path and theirs hasn’t crossed. This is unusual, and I’ve missed seeing them. I like the red deer a lot, and feel quite some attachment. I think it’s partially due to the fact that they wander so freely, and pretty much appeared unannounced. They’re like odd, brown, cervine ghosts; you see them often enough to know they’re there, but the movements they make from place to place are unseen and mysterious. Recently, they’ve been on Clayhanger Common. One has to wonder how they got there… you can’t enter clay hanger without crossing the canal.
Today, they were on the fields of the former Highfields Farm, south of the M6 Toll near Chasewater. I spotted them first from near the Poole Crescent footbridge, and then got closer shots from the roadside near the old farm. The group of does – I think there were about 15 in total – were loafing and grazing, and were not disturbed by my presence.
I love these graceful, beautiful animals. It’s lovely that we have them here. Such unexpected, wild beauty in a postindustrial place.
March 17th – I was pottering around the canal, and hopped up the bank onto Clayhanger Common to check out the sunset, and I came across these two patches of feathers. Something – probably a sparrow hawk – has had lunch here. Maybe twice. Those look like pigeon feathers to me.
If there’s a birder living on the south side of Humphries House, they’ve a cracking view of this spot. Might be worth keeping your eye out for hunting raptors…
March 16th – You ever have one of those days when nothing goes right? Yes, that. I set out to visit a pal and never found them, cycled down to Burntwood to buy something that wasn’t in stock, and then left my bike lock key on the doughnut counter in the supermarket (there’s a lesson in there, somewhere). It’s only Saturday evening, and already this feels like Lloyd Cole’s Lost Weekend.
Crossing the bypass on my empty handed return from Burntwood, I stopped to look down the road towards the M6 Toll. I don’t know why, but I love this view. The distant, windy sweep of cars on the motorway; the endless points of sodium light; the red beacons of the Sutton Masts in the distance. The air was hard and clear, the clouds dramatic and threatening. Apart from the periodic moan of cars beneath my feed, I was alone.
Then I didn’t feel alone anymore. Something was with me. I turned around, and on the bollard at the end of the footway, perched an owl. We made eye contact, but as soon as I went for my camera, he was gone, into the darkening night.
Somehow, it was soothing, reassuring and beautiful.
15th March – After a couple of dry, largely sunny days, the rains returned. It rained on me on the way to work, and again as I travelled home. In Tyseley, what was a light shower became a downpour as I left Walsall; by Shelfield, I was soaked, it was still hammering it down, yet over to the north, the sky was clearing and the sun was out.
Commuting on a bike on days like these is hard – damned hard. The hardest bit of winter is often the endgame; this year’s is beginning to seem endless.
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