Tag: commute

November 20th – At the ‘cute Victorian’ end of the railway station spectrum is Shenstone. Full of stereotypical metroland classic commuter charm, this was one of the last stations built on the old Cross City line, when the fillip was added between Sutton and Lichfield. It’s a gorgeous, terracotta brick, semi gothic marvel, sadly defiled by having it’s lovely glass canopy destroyed and chimneystacks truncated. In this dormitory commuter village, it is dark and quiet on the station at night, and I think, even in a steady drizzle, that it is beautiful. A good place to leave from, and a fine place to return to.

November 14th – Commuting in the darkness hours. For the first few weeks after the autumn clock change, drivers go a bit loopy. I don’t know if stats back this up, but it feels like everything gets a bit unhinged until normality returns at around the beginning of December. In the last few weeks on my way home I’ve been pulled out on, undertaken, cut up and lefthooked. This is with huge bright lights and hi-viz. 

This collective madness is heightened when I hear the spine-chilling siren and see the blue flashes. When emergency vehicles appear, I always make sure I’m well out of the way, as folk never seem quite sure what to do. Tonight, in the queue at Shelfield, I was safe as the paramedic shot past in the other direction. On their way to someone desperately in need, no doubt. Maybe a traffic accident. My blood ran cold. 

I hate this time of year.

October 31st – I came back to Walsall as the Cross City was broken again, and it at least meant the wind would be at my back. The ride was as bad as I expected; people were driving like morons and the road conditions were dreadful. Still, I had good waterproofs on, and it was just a matter of mashing away until I got home. The arboretum Junction was spray-central: I don’t know what it is with the asphalt here, but it retains a layer of water that just doesn’t dissipate, resulting in a permanent traffic haze while it rains.

Winter. It came so quickly…

23rd October – As I headed homeward, conditions – and the light – didn’t improve, but at least the wind was almost behind me. The amount of motorists I saw without lights was astounding, and by the time I was negotiating Shire Oak Hill, it was both raining steadily, and very nearly dark. This weather is difficult to ride in – not just for practical visibility and comfort reasons, but the rain makes people drive oddly, and it puts me on my guard. One would imagine that bad weather would make people drive more carefully, but the opposite seams to be the case. Most bizarre.

October 3rd – Out to Telford at dawn meant cycling to Shenstone Station. The weather has been really variable this week, the one constant factor being the northeasterly wind that’s blown me to Shenstone in the morning and home from Walsall at night. Just as this is the time of year for good sunsets, it’s also the time for decent sunrises, too, although I’m usually too rushed to photograph them. Today was a good example – a gorgeous sky heralding a temperate day. Coupled with the shinbone skyline, it was beautiful.

September 26th – The poor weather continues. On my way to work, despite expecting a dry run, it rained; and also, on my return. I got the train to Lichfield, and did some shopping on my way back. The evening alternated between a searching, oddly penetrative drizzle and bright skies with a little hazy sunshine. Crossing Summerhill on the A461 Lichfield Road, I noticed the sunset was stunning. Lets have more of this, and less of the rain, please. Come on, weather, you’ve made your point…

September 24th – The bad evening predicated a bad morning; it was one of the worst commutes weather-wise I’d had for years. Thanks to a tipoff early on twitter by Aiden MacHaffie, I knew before I left that trains on the Cross City were shafted, and my journey would therefore have to start at Walsall. Heading to Tyseley in heavy rain, the usually assortment of bad weather bad drivers made themselves painfully evident. The trains were rammed, and by the time I found myself waiting at Moor Street, I was wet, chilly and down in the dumps. I don’t know so much about autumn, someone seems to have left the door open and winter wandered in. Ugh.

September 7th – I catch the train from Nuneaton to Leciester sometimes with a chap called  Igor. Igor is into all kinds of bikes, both bicycles and motorbikes. This madcap Lithuanian likes his steeds rough and ready: he rides a battered, but well-maintained fixed wheel most of the time, but on special occasions, for example Critical Mass rides, he gets out his tall bike. Home made from two frames, this is a classic of the genre, and it is ridable with practice. Tall bikes are great fun, and beloved of urban cyclists who often knock them up for kicks… just another wonderful tribe in the patchwork of the cycling scene. They did once have a practical use: European lamplighters used to make them to make their duties faster and easier. A lovely thing, and a really nice chap, too. Bonkers and wonderful at the same time.