February 19th – Still working long hours and not finding much time or energy for anything else, but hopefully things will ease a bit next week. Winter returned with wet vengeance this morning with driving rain and a headwind. I battled my way into Darlaston, which looked grey and lifeless.
At least the chap waiting for his breakfast at the canteen window on Station Street had cover, of sorts.
February 18th – A sweet and sad little mystery in Kings Hill Park, Darlaston, I noticed whilst taking a shortcut back from Wednesbury. A young sapling, not long planted in the corner of the park. Surrounded by daffodils getting ready to bloom, a unattributed heart-shaped wreath, and a single red rose.
A valentines verse, and the date 14th February 1991.
I have no idea. But it caught me unawares on a sunny, springlike morning. Sad, and yet so sweet.
February 17th – In Kings Hill Park, two firsts for the year; my first snowdrops and crocuses. The snowdrops seem very few and far between this year, and those around seem small and spindly. Can’t be their year. No such issues with the crocuses.
I think this spring idea might just work. The seasons wheel moves on another tooth. Bring it on.
February 17th – Darlaston, again. What a difference a day made. Spring was in the air, the sun on my face and warmth in my heart.
Shame about the trees in front of St. Lawrence’s Church. They make it impossible to get a decent angle on one of the finest churches hereabouts.
February 16th – No matter how grey, Victoria Park in Darlaston is always a joy to the heart – and since the Community Payback crew has been working here clearing the overgrown scrub, the surrounding architecture – itself remarkable – is now once again part of the overall atmosphere.
Thanks are due to Kate ‘Ganzey’ Gomez and others who pointed out that my wee, crumbling shed that I spotted last week – centre right – was actually for the town fire engine. Read about it here (scroll right down).
February16th – The greyness continued, and hung over the morning commute like a portent. Wet, dark and with a building wind, I edged into Darlaston over the River Tame at Bentley Bridge. The flood channel here has never been pretty, but on this awful Monday morning, it had something about it.
Maybe, somewhere downstream, there was a brighter day.
February 13th – I had another stop to make on the way home – Asda. I was so bleary I got scant few of the things I was supposed to get, and if you ever want to know what a supermarket looks like after a riot, do visit Asda in Walsall late on Friday night. It was like a scene from The Day After. Complete with the walking dead – me.
I poured myself liquid down the marketplace, and the lights of the deserted Bridge snagged my attention; the night-time workers were about – posties, shopfitters, sign people – but nobody else. The light, the colour, the wet surfaces. In a moment, this place was precious.
I smiled to myself, and rode slowly, inexorably home. I remember very little of the journey, except it took me 45 minutes.
February 13th – Unlucky for some, it was not a great day for me; I was at work far too late, and I stubbornly remained long after I was any use. Tired, mentally exhausted, I came back from Darlaston in a miserable fug; I’d mislaid something and spent an hour looking, which was bothering me. There was a steady, eroding drizzle and a slow puncture was dogging my progress. Hunger was also on my shoulders.
I rode somnambulently into Caldmore for indian snacks to take home. My usual store of choice was long since closed, but another nearby was open, and I hungrily chose vegetable kebabs, samosa, spinach paneer bhajis and pakora. The sauce was bravely supplied in a plastic bag, which I popped unopened in my travel mug. I wasn’t too fuzzy to risk a saddlebag full of goop, no matter how tasty.
I was still knackered, but I felt brighter. There was food in my saddlebag, and the rain was easing. Maybe I could make it home without stopping to pump up the tyre again…
February 10th – Working late, and a late journey home through Walsall Wood to drop something off. I love this small but busy High Street at night. Still retaining a village atmosphere, the lights, pubs and takeaways make it seem welcoming and pleasant.
I’ll be so glad when the light nights come back. I think I’ve had enough of the darkness now.
February 9th – Meanwhile, other signs of life – primroses in a town centre planter, just being bright and trying to get our attention.
Gorgeous little flowers, a little dishevelled by the elements, but colourful and cute, all the same.
BrownhillsBob's #365daysofbiking 