Tag: bad weather

February 25th – An unusual Saturday morning that saw me at work in Darlaston, and the commute there had been very hard, as it had been solidly against the wind. I left around lunchtime for a run into Birmingham on the canal, hoping to stop off for some Caribbean food at my favourite cafe on the way through.The plan was to have the wind behind me back up the canal through Hamstead.

The cafe was rammed, so I got back on the canal, and went to the Soho Road, where it has to be said, excellent curry and breads were devoured; but whilst eating, the rains came and winds got up, much against the forecast.

Whilst on the Soho Loop I spotted this curious, brutalist sculpture in a really odd, forgotten spot by Asylum Bridge. It seems to have been revealed by scrub clearance work, and I have no idea what it is, or why it’s there. Does anyone out there know, please?

I don’t mind the rain and I’ll tolerate the wind, but the two together are evil. So I popped to see a mate in Aston and got the train back to Blake Street. 

A sort of lost day, really.

February 22nd – It was a grim, wet morning commute and I wasn’t in the best of moods. I decided to cheer myself up by calling into Kings Hill Part to check on the progress of the miniature daffodils and other spring flowers.

I wasn’t disappointed, and spotted with raindrops, they looked fresh, vital and beautiful.

I left in a considerably better frame of mind.

February 12th – The fug continued throughout Sunday. Throughout the day, drizzle, sleet and snow, and the persistent, cursed absence of proper light. It was like someone had switched hope and optimism off. I found the day oppressive; I was caged, and I hate that. Hemmed in by the weather and a worsening mood.

I slipped out in the early evening to pop something over to a mate in Walsall Wood. A laugh and a shared moan about the lost weekend made things better. I returned to Brownhills, still in steady, cold drizzle, lifted, but still lost.

Bad weather will test even the greatest optimist.

February 11th – It was one of those days daylight seemed to avoid. I headed to the canal for a little inspiration, but none came. The grey just merged via a horrid, drizzly mist.

The sky was grey. The water was grey. The landscape was in shades of grey. I felt grey.

Days like these really try your resolve.

February 11th – I can’t beat about the bush here: it was a bloody horrible weekend weather-wise and my disposition wasn’t sunny as a result, either. All the spring of the previous weekend had evaporated and I was left with cold, freezing rain, sleet and a strong wind. 

I had to get shopping and run errands. I had to get out. I went to Brownhills, and it did, to be fair, lighten my mood but the photography was dreadful. But there couldn’t have been a better afternoon to consider Ravens Court, the crumbling, derelict shopping centre whose private owners couldn’t give a toss for.

This foreboding, grim vandal-magnet seems beyond the powers of anyone, including the local authority (and lord knows, they’ve tried) to be sorted once and for all. The people with the power – the owners who are a land-banking company based in Mayfair, London – couldn’t be less bothered.

This place blights our town, is a cause for derision, prevents new investment and stands testament to the abject failure of governments to tame the worst aspects of speculative property capitalism.

It was raining in Ravens Court; but surveying this desolation, the rain in my heart was torrential.

February 6th – A great, frosty and beautiful dawn which although out in, I didn’t manage to capture as I was running late and couldn’t stop. By sometime, though, the weather had turned – raining and windy, it was a horrid ride home. 

I stopped on the Anchor Bridge for a breather and to adjust my clothes. It was a truly horrible journey and I felt wet, cold and uncomfortable.

It’s not often the working day is bracketed by such wildly differing commutes. But I’m glad that one’s over, for sure.

January 31st – The grim weather continues. Having slipped out for a customer meeting in the afternoon, I came back from Birmingham in the early evening to find the train going to Shenstone full: rather than wait in New Street, I caught the Four Oaks one instead. This meant an extra couple of miles to ride home and a serious hill on the way, but I just wanted to be back there.

In steady rain, I alighted at the station, and stopped to take a picture from the over bridge.Even in the rain, it’s a beautifully photogenic station at night.

If the drizzle and greyness could finish up soon, that’d be great, thanks…

January 30th – A thoroughly uninspiring day’s riding. I travelled to work on a murky, damp Monday morning and there wasn’t even visible trace of the dawn. 

In the evening, I left Darlaston in light but persistent drizzle that found every not-quite done up zip and flap in my clothes, with a crosswind that made the whole journey an ordeal.

Still, it’s staying late much later now than a month ago – a whole hour – and I keep looking at the green shoots on verges and in parks and know that darkness will reach it’s end soon.

I contented myself with a handful of shots of the canal on my way back to Brownhills, all the time dreaming of warmer, lighter, better days.

January 28th – A day with curious light and dark. It was alternately fairly bright then rained heavily. I set out mid-afternoon on an errand in Lichfield and got caught by the rain, and also a hail-squall which was interesting if somewhat unpleasant.

Avoiding the traffic, I headed through Hammerwich, and looked back to Brownhills. The roads were muddy goop, and the riding could have been better but the skies were wonderfully dramatic.