September 15th – A bad day in many ways, when not much seemed to go to plan. It wasn’t very bad, just loads of minor irritations – and the weather; occasionally sunny and deceptively warm, but at other times almost painfully chilly, as if winter’s fingers were starting to get their grip on things.

The first tinges of the oncoming cold and dark are always the hardest, and this year they’ve come a lot sooner that I expected – but we have kind of got used to Indian summers in recent years, so perhaps this is a return to normal.

I came back from work in heavy, intemperate traffic having to make a call near Streets Corner, and all the while the skies to the south were showing evil intent. 

When I got home, mercifully before the rain came – I realised how glad I was to be back.

Some days, home is the best place to be.

September 29th – I’d nipped into Birmingham on what seemed like a reasonable afternoon, then got the train back to Walsall. As I got nearer, the skies darkened more and more. It didn’t look good.

I emerged from the station about 6pm, and it was like dusk, with almost biblically ominous conditions. 

I got as far as Rushall when the heavens opened, but it didn’t last long. It’s been the driest September on record here, and the rain was refreshing, and all too short-lived.

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.