January 15th – Viewed from just below Meerash Farm, near Hammerwich, the sunset over Brownhills was beautiful, even over this normally ugly bit of the skyline known as The Chemical. Once the site of a chemical works, then the Superalloys military scrapyard, now the vents and flues of one of Brownhills’ largest employers, Castings, punctuate the factory roofs. In daytime, this view is at best, unremarkable and at worst, hideous. At sundown, though, precious. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
January 15th – I have to keep rolling. Despite feeling a bit grim, I embarked on a chilly ride around Brownhills, Chasewater and Hammerwich. The ice tyres made short work of the icy puddles and frozen track mud, and it was quite a blast. As I approached what has now been christened ‘Slough Railway Bridge’ in a sudden fit of bridge nameplate renewal by British Waterways, I noted something I’d been meaning to feature here for a while. Many folk don’t realise what the channel on the right of this flight of steps is for – it’s to push your bicycle up to the cycle track above from the towpath below. It’s only been installed in the last few years, and certainly makes the climb easier, and provides a trick challenge for the BMX kids. I see more an more of these about, and a fine thing they are, too.
I don’t care what British Waterways call it, it’ll always be the Cement Works Bridge to me…
January 14th – A cold, clear, crisp, beautifully frosty winter day. At last. Normally, on days like this I’d wrap up warm and head for Cannock Chase. Sadly, I wasn’t up to that, so settled for a sunset pootle around Brownhills and Warrenhouse. The views from Barracks Lane over Home Farm were gorgeous, as was the dusk over the canal near Ogley Junction. I really regretted not being in better condition. I bet the Trent Valley was gorgeous tonight…
January 5th – Further along the canal, overlooking the Barracks Lane/Watling Street island, traffic looked heavy tonight. It always amuses me to think that down in that valley, watered by the Crane Brook, overlooked by the foursquare Hammerwich Church on the opposite hill, the Staffordshire Hoard lay undisturbed for hundreds of years. Narrowly missed by canals, a railway, various road schemes and a toll motorway, the gold treasure lay undisturbed in a quiet field just to the right of this picture. As kids, we scrambled through this landscape, completely oblivious.
January 5th – The antibiotics seem to be working, but it’s a slow recovery. After spending the morning pottering about feeling great, I spent an hour or so of the afternoon with stomach cramp. There seems to be some kind of battle raging in there between normal function and the infection. It’s kind of interesting in a geeky way. Modern drugs really are a wonderful thing.
I snuck out again just before sunset feeling a bit grim, but the fresh air and exercise soon picked me up. I headed up Brownhills and onto the canal, heading towards Wharf Lane. I was wondering if there would be much damage evident from the high winds, but thankfully, there was none. Stopping to survey the favoured view of Home Farm at Sandhills, I noted that the lone tree that stands where Brawn’s wind pump used to be is still standing. That’s a relief; I tell the seasons by that tree. It’s a fine specimen.
January 4th – Another really, really windy day. One thing about being ill that’s not been too bad it that it’s been during some thoroughly lousy cycling weather. I was surprised, therefore, to note the guys recladding Humpries House – Brownhills last remaining high-rise block – were pottering about on their mobile platforms near the top of the building. Until I started to think about that, my stomach had been quite settled. My respect for those chaps is boundless. You’d have to anaesthetise me to get me up there on a still day…
January 3rd – It was at the southern end of the park I first heard it. An insistent, solid, two-pulse, one note, regular cry. Loud, actually, but until now, lost in the traffic noise and windrush. I dropped down into the base of the park and followed the calling. It was very nearly dusk, only the odd hardy dog walker or two around, and the persistent bird call, coming, as it turned out, from the dense copse in the northern hollow. What I think was a little owl (but I’m no expert on bird calls, it was certainly an owl) was calling out for all it was worth. I was in awe. Days of feeling lower than a snake’s knees, and then to hear such a bird a short ride away. Fabulous.
January 2nd – I finally plucked up courage just before sunset. I was still quite unwell, and am still suffering the upset stomach now, but I’d eaten a little, and wanted fresh air and the reassurance that I could still ride. It was very, very windy, and my energy levels pitiful. With the solid feel of my bike under me, I set off. Oddly liberated, I sped through Brownhills and back along the canal. I’d really missed this. The wind had been crafted on Satan’s anvil, but for once I just clicked down the gears and mashed through it. My energy didn’t last long, but I was back. I could do this again.
The sunset at Clayhanger bridge, and dusk looking toward the Jollier Collier Bridge from the Old Cement Works bridge made nice pictures.
Lying at home thinking, I decided I had to continue the 365daysofbiking project, to to make it fair, it had to start again from today. That’s the only way I can feel better about this, so I’ll continue.
December 30th – Something wasn’t right. The weather had been appalling all day. I’d hidden indoors, and I’d been busying myself with a few other projects. As I pottered around, I felt increasingly unwell. Finally dragging myself out of the house at 8:30pm, it was very black, rainy and miserable. I was not on top form. Every pedal revolution felt like it was draining the strength from my body. I forgot my Gorillapod. I never do that.
After a loop around Brownhills, Clayhanger and Walsall Wood, I returned home, still feeling unwell. Later in the evening, I went out to the pub. I sat there for an hour with a good friend, shivering and feeling rotten, and found myself almost unable to walk home. Something was very, very wrong with me.
December 29th – Now do you see what we have to put up with? This weather is awful. Heading into Brownhills, yesterday lunchtime. Waterproofs on, resolute into the rain. Watching for the traffic, which goes a bit silly in these conditions. Come on, weather, give us a break. Leave the rain if you must, but please, please, please drop the wind. Thanks.
The music is ‘Il Pleure’ from The Art of Noise, a lost classic from a sadly overlooked album ‘The Seduction of Claude Debussy’.
BrownhillsBob's #365daysofbiking 