January 8th – Still periodically bouncing the strange bike to test the forks, I took it up Catshill Bridge to try it over the drop on the way back down. When up there, I realised the low cloud was making for interesting colour in the night sky, so set the camera on the parapet and let it do it’s thing.
Not a bad picture, really. Streetlights have a lot to answer for…
January 7th – I love inversions, when mist rolls off water low into the air. I don’t see many these days, and certainly none as dramatic as those from my childhood, but the character of the area has changed so much in 40 years that I shouldn’t be surprised, really.
I was out after dark and noticed fleeting, transitory clouds of mist forming over the canal at Silver Street, intensifying, then disappearing. It was stunning.
I tried to photograph them as best I could, but this is really something you have to see first hand…
January 3rd – Still rough this morning, I took a leisurely cruise on some errands, and was surprised to note on the canal near Pier Street this couple – Goosanders. I know they’re fairly common on the local lakes like Chasewater and Ryders Mere, but I can’t recall seeing them on the canal before.
Fish eaters, they must be a sign – like the kingfishers and herons – of good water quality and a good fish population.
They were fast moving, so apologies for the poor pic.
December 31st – I looped back into Brownhills, and took in one of my favourite night photography muses – Silver Street and the canal at night. I never get tired of this, the interaction of lights, architecture and water are always lovely.
Looking back to the flats, soon this view will change. The market place – deserted for 5 years – will be houses, and as the development towards the flats completes, life and light will return to the canal side, transforming the character once more.
Change is what I guess this journal is all about, and as ever, I welcome it, as I grudgingly welcome 2017.
Happy new year to all readers and followers. Here’s to peace, prosperity and happiness to you all, wherever you follow me from.
December 25th – Mrs. Muscovy was still in her favourite spot when I passed by. Still solitary and apparently contemplating. Escaped from the nearby smallholding, still resisting recapture, this funny fowl is inscrutable and something of a local canard celebrity.
I wished her a Merry Christmas, and after nearly a year on the run, bid the Newtown One another year of singular freedom.
December 24th – Scouting for deer, I came across this pair of bandits on the canal towpath by Clayhanger Common. They normally dwell in the field off Northfields Way at Clayhanger, but keep escaping, the owner apparently at a loss to know how. As a consequence, they roam Clayhanger village and common, and are developing somewhat truculent personalities.
It took some coaxing to move them so I could get past!
December 23rd – Again up at the sparrow’s cough, this time I needed to go to Bridgnorth, and again had a long day before me. The dawn was warmer, and the early morning less grim than the day before.
At Silver Court, the newsagent was just open – but the building lights hadn’t clicked on yet and the shop sign made for an odd, otherworldly, brutalist portal.
December 22nd – Looping back down the High Street it was getting light on the eastern horizon, and the view from Anchor Bridge was altogether more positive.I’m frequently out and about at this hour, but rarely stop to take photos.
Perhaps I should.
December 16th – Heading back into Brownhills mid evening, the roads were oddly still busy, the traffic through the High Street heavy and challenging. Emergency vehicles came through, perhaps an accident, or perhaps just the normal buzz of life.
I was tired. It had been a long week. But a pleasant meal and evening with workmates had been enjoyable.
A weekend, and three days to go. I just need to hang in there.
December 16th – On my return from work, I hopped on the canal at Walsall Wood, and enjoyed the peaceful darkness as far as Anchor Bridge, where I switched back onto the High Street.
The canal was peaceful, silent, eerie, with only snatches of light in the darkness, my headlamp scything the night as I rode.
But riding in the dark is mentally hard work, and I hadn’t got it in me. For once, the road felt safer, so I took it.
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