Tag: bad weather

April 27th – Prompted by what, I don’t know, but during the day several people reported that they’d seen a gully cleaner on the Lichfield Road at Sandhills. Since I’d been complaining about the state of the drains here for ages, I thought I’d check out the situation. Sure enough, about 60% of the drains are now flowing freely, with one flowing in reverse (clearly a blockage in the intermediate culvert). The worst ones were left untouched, as I guess they need the solid silt removing by some other means. The road had much less surface water, although it still wasn’t great, it was much better. There appeared, however, to be an issue with the other drains in the verge, which was contributing to the surface water considerably. All in all, not a bad result but it would be nice to see them all cleaned and back to functionality.

April 26th – I came home under a cloud, as I often do. This one, however, was meteorological rather than psychological. It was grim when I left Leicester, and trying to rain; my train was delayed, and then I got bumped onto the next one 40 minutes later due to lack of space. Arriving at Shenstone an hour later than usual, the black skies were gathering. My mood, and the outlook, was black. Yet the rain held off, and the countryside of Footherley, and the sight and sound of a healthily flowing Footherley Brook cheered me. Oddly, I arrived home in quite a good mood, albeit rather late. I guess that’s why I cycle.

April 25th – April is certainly the cruellest month of 2012 so far. Maybe I just got used to life in the dry, but commuting this week has had it’s difficult moments. I headed to Lichfield at dawn in a rainstorm, wrenching myself up the A461 against a merciless headwind. Making the train just in time, the inclement weather seemed to follow me to Leicester, where it hung around menacingly outside, like some school bully waiting to beat me anew on the way home. Fortunately, the trip home wasn’t so bad, just drizzle, really. But whatI did notice was the trees: clearly thirsty, there has been a sudden explosion in foliage and blossom. It’s an ill wind, and all that. 

April 22nd – When I got to Chasewater, it was raining heavily. I didn’t care, but it made photography difficult, even with the Gorillapod. I took a few halfhearted shots – the lake looked brilliant, but any attempt to point the camera in that direction resulted in a wet lens. Water level seemed up a bit, too. I cycled back via the parade. At the M6 Toll bridge, I passed two paramedics, parked up awaiting their next call. They looked at me as though I was mad. Perhaps I am, lads, perhaps I am…

April 22nd – I ducked out of it all day. Today was one of the very few days, where if I hadn’t been doing 365daysofbiking, I wouldn’t have left home. I felt ropey, the weather was crap. I had lots of other… stuff to do. But my commitment is real, and I left after tea.It was drizzling steadily. But again, the bike felt good under me. I had waterproofs on. This could just work. I headed onto the canal in Brownhills, and cycled up over Catshill Junction towards Chasewater. It was OK. I stopped to take pictures at Lane’s Farm – and then I saw them… swallows. Hunting insects in the dusk and rain. Swallows, damn it! They’d come all the way from Africa to here, to hunt insects and breed. You can’t bottle that. I continued up the canal in the dusk, enjoying every minute. 

Cycling, an antidepressant. Ride one, twice a day.

April 19th – A week of threatening dark skies continued. I had, however, been oddly lucky; I had to go to Leicester for a few days, and only caught a light shower on the way. As I arrived at South Wigston early morning, the gloom gathered, and it rained throughout the day, but held off just as the I awaited my return train that afternoon. I know we need the rain, but psychologically, I need some summer. A real quandary…

April 18th – Baby weather – wet and windy, but warm. I worked from home before heading off mid-morning for a meeting in Redditch. It was drizzly and wet, but the riding through Stonnall and Little Aston was great. I saw lots of birds – great tits, blue tits, long-tailed tits, greenfinches, bullfinches, goldfinches, buzzards, a kestrel, a jay. I saw a countless rabbits, and a fox. Summer is coming. I can feel it. The rain is getting warmer….

April 17th – I’d been lucky and missed the day’s intemperate, sharp showers. Feeling smug, nature slapped me about the face when I was nearly back in Brownhills. At 4:45pm, the heavens opened and spat down the most violent hailstorm. Sheltering in a bus stop, I waited for it to pass – I’m no fair weather cyclist, but I draw the limit at being pebbledashed. 
Within 15 minutes, the sun came out and the sky returned to the threatening darkness that it had been wearing for most of the day. Inspired, I headed to Clayhanger and the new pool. I noted swans were nesting there, too, and how green everything seemed to be becoming. Dawdling, I was just clipped by the rain as I returned home… going to be an interesting week of commuting, I think.

April 7th – As is customary when you buy a new camera, one of two things happens. It’s either dull and overcast for days afterwards, rendering all your handiwork and testing grey and horrid, or you take hundreds of pics not having spotted the packaging fluff on the lens wrecking every image. I think this time, we’re settling for the ‘dull’ option. I set out yesterday lunchtime with a heavy heart; it was drizzling steadily and Brownhills looked dark and moody. 

I was cheered, however, by Mrs. Swan, who was still sitting intently in her impressive nest at the canal bank at the rear of Saddler Road. She’s had a couple of dry runs in previous years, but I think this could be her first clutch. She seems to be shuffling a lot, and quite concerned for what’s beneath her. In previous years, pairs of swans here have had broods as great as ten. I feel unusually gripped by this… it’ll be interesting to see how the couple do this year. At least the nest this time is well out of reach of foxes and rats.

April 4th – Today was not a photogenic day. My journey to the station at Telford – about three miles – was against the wind and in a steady rain, felt much how I imagine being shotblasted to feel. It was the kind of rain that made your forehead hurt.

At the other end of my commute, I chose my return station with care. I could have come from Walsall or Shenstone, but the latter offered the choice with the favourable wind. Positively blown home, there was nothing that inspired me to get the camera out until I tackled Shire Oak Hill at Sandhills. The weather had been dire, yet I was coasting up a really quite nasty hill without thinking. I reflected on the nature of this hill over history – this small group of old houses would have been the Sandhills of old, one being the Leopard pub – closed at the turn of the 1900’s, but with a two-century history. What would it have been like to climb this hill in say, 1850? 1800? 1750? 

An old route through an old hamlet. Never really noticed  before.