#365daysofbiking Hello darkness my old friend
August 26th – it was a dreadful, wet day and I still wasn’t well. I was busy at home with things that had needed doing for ages, and I slipped out after dark for a spin around a dripping, sodden town.
I hate this weekend, every year; it’s OK if the weather’s good and you can ride, but if it’s grey and horrible it’s so depressing. It always feels like the end of summer, even if it’s nowhere near.
Riding was actually good, and the somnambulant town was quiet in the gathering night. With the new houses, Church Road is probably the most atmospheric it’s been for years, and Coppice lane wears it’s loneliness like an old jacket.
Still can’t get a night photo of Morris I’m happy with, though…
January 20th – Back on the Canon, the photos felt more… vital, or vibrant. Which is an odd thing to say about a bunch of images of a cold, wet, snowy and misty grey winter landscape. But they do.
It was lonely. And cold. And I think these images convey that fairly well…
January 17th – We had snow. Not much, maybe half an inch, and it was very, very wet. It was enough though, to be beautiful, and so I headed out into it as soon as I could. The light was pretty poor though, and the photography didn’t work out so well, but it was a nice experience apart from the endless mud.
Still, it’s better than the endless rain, and seeing the gorse flowers in the snow was lovely.
New Year’s Day – I was miserable. The weather was miserable. That’s all there was to it.
I wasn’t feeling good – not over-indulgence, but the semi-regular bad stomach and that post-Christmas feeling when the work that seemed so far away two days ago is suddenly noticed, bearing down.
I span out after dark, up Coppice Lane and the cycleway, and back along the canal. It was raining, and windy so quite tough going. But I felt better for it, and got home more cheerful than I left it.
I always find January 1st difficult if I’m hemmed in. Tomorrow will be a better day.
November 16th – It’s been a while since my Brownhills deer magnet was last functioning, and I `haven’t seen the local ones for ages. As I came up Coppice Lane, they were in the scrub on the left side, on the fringes of the old clay pit and landfill.
About 6 or 8 females, they were quite skittish, and didn’t hang around for long. But it was good to se the girls. Shame the light wasn’t a bit better.
March 2nd – Meanwhile, over in the layby at Coppice Lane, the flytippers had been busy. There must be 20 or 30 bags here – none were open, so I have no idea what was in them, but it looks like domestic refuse – all dropped in a pile, clearly from a van or truck.
The people that do this are criminals, and scum beneath contempt. If you know who did this, please dob them in to the Council or cops.
This stuff can present a health hazard and costs a fortune to deal with. Civilised humans don’t flytip.
August 4th – Barely time for a ride today, but I snatched one in the dying light of the evening. It was a grim evening, and we’d had heavy rainstorms throughout the afternoon. The sky was alternately light and dark, threatening another deluge with bands of bright blue coming through. At Coppice Lane, the small, automated pumping station in Birch Coppice was clearly swamped and unable to cope; the access hatch in front had water gushing up through it. It was flowing back down the lane and forming a large flood.The weather this summer really has been lousy.