Tag: bad weather

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 16th – I passed through Chasewater late afternoon on another dull, wet day. I was interested to see if the level had reached the top of the weir at the back of the Nine-Foot pool, as when water crosses the new concrete breakwater and enters the spillway, the level of the main lake can rise no more. 

As it happened, the water is just short of overflowing. Id say there’s bout 10-15mm in it, that’s all. The water has risen about 20-25mm from last weekend, and unless someone opens the outlet valve, I think water will be entering the overflow system by next weekend. 

It’ll be interesting to see if the powers that be let that happen, or whether they start letting so water out to prevent it. Watching the water level rise here has been one of the few really positive things about this winter. 

Truly historic.            

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.

Mach 11th – A remarkable, and strange day. Periods of bright, clear sunshine interspersed with sudden, sharp and heavy snowstorms. They’d last for 15 minutes, then the sun would come out again. All the while, a bitter, biting wind came from the east. It really was viciously cold.

On the way home, I boarded a train at Tyseley in a blizzard, then ten minutes later cycled through Birmingham City Centre in bright sunshine. Coming home from Shenstone with the wind (thankfully) behind me, the sun was bright, but the sky to the easy was dark and threatening.

I sped home, hoping to avoid any oncoming snow – thankfully, the sky didn’t fulfil it’s promise. 

An odd day to commute, and little sign of spring, although the light was gorgeous.

March 10th – Catapulted back into winter, I set off to work off the excesses of the previous evening. It was a cold morning, with a biting east wind, and it was snowing well. I had somewhere to call in Burntwood, then I wanted to go for a decent spin. I noted on my way that although it was wintry, it looks like the swans who abandoned their clutch last year at Catshill are nesting again, in exactly the same spot. That nest is clearly being built up again – let’s hope there are cygnets this year.

Another returnee is Bob the narrowboat. Occupied by an artist painting watercolours, he was in the same spot for a short while last year, and was previously up at Longwood Junction, near Walsall. Sightings of Bob the Boat have been an in-joke on social media for a while, now. It’s good to see it back.

Chasewater itself was more like Prestatyn on a bad day. The water was choppy and there were few folk about. At the water margins, the breakdown of vegetation newly submerged was being accelerated by the waves, and making the periphery of the the reservoir frothy and soapy.

The level is now 4cm off full, and the water in the Nine-Foot Pool is now really close to overtopping the weir. Absolutely unbelievable, really, considering the lake was virtually empty this time last year.

Spring is getting ready to go; only the weather is holding it back. Let’s hope this is winter’s las breath…

March 8th – There’s not much, photographically, you can do with a day like this, except record it as it was. For the second day running, it was wet and foggy. The traffic was still acting strange, and I was glad to get home. It’s not really cold, and the cycling was surprisingly good due to the still conditions – but the flat, grey outlook, devoid of decent light, is relentless.

Please, spring, come back! What on earth did I do to scare you off?

March 7th – Today was grim. The commuting weather was as miserable as it gets. It felt quite warm, but there was a persistent rain of the kind that hunted out the gap between collar and neck, or any slightly-open zip. The traffic was mental, and everything seemed to be functioning half-asleep. 

Coming home from Walsall Station, I noticed the taxi rank at the side of the station seemed to be afflicted by the wet-day madness, and I found myself waiting at the lights at Rushall Square, stoically bracing for some idiot to cut me up.

I’m sure there’s valuable research to be done on why many drivers brains turn to porridge in wet weather. A real puzzler.

March 6th – The warm sunshine and springlike air disappeared today. It was one of those grey, murky days when it never seemed to get light. I had to go to Darlaston for the first time in ages, and I enjoyed the ride, despite the indifferent, drizzly weather. Hopping onto the canal up to Bentley Bridge, it’s a welcome, pleasant and solitary byway through the former industrial heartlands. 

This place is still noisy with commerce and manufacture, of course, but as nothing compared to the heyday. I always think of this place a slumbering, one eye slightly open, waiting for the great leap forward.

The Black Country will rise again. In the meantime, the contemplation and enjoyment of it’s placid waterways, even on a dull day, is a wonderful thing.

February 9th – A grim day. Grim all round, really; not feeling in the best of health, and the weather was overcast, wet and miserable. I’d had a thoroughly depressing couple of hours unsuccessfully fiddling with bikes, and had to nip up to Walsall  Wood. In such murky, unphotogenic conditions, it’s difficult to find subject matter, but as I got to Bullings Heath and the Black Cock Bridge, I thought how quant and villagey the area looked. It’s true that riding a bike can lift your mood. From a feeling of darkness and a depression that didn’t seem to want to go, I suddenly felt happier.

Bicyclic antidepressant: cycle one, twice a day.

February 7th – I guess my hands must be getting steadier, or I’m getting better at this photography hoohah. Today was pretty much the inverse of yesterday; 24 hours before the morning commute was wet, and the evening rewarded me with a dry, beautiful sunset twilight commute. Today, the morning was stunning in it’s beauty, and in the evening, I got wet.

At the Arboretum junction, I was held, as usual, at the lights. Waiting to cross, I whipped out the camera, and took a couple of quick shots before the lights changed. Oddly for a ¼ exposure, it came out quite crisp even though it was handheld.