Tag: darkness

December 30th – As I noted ten days ago, the sunset was now advancing from it’s nadir of 3:53pm. Since then the figure – top right on the bike computer screen – has advanced to 4pm. We are winning the battle, the darkness is in regret – we’ve gained seven minutes, and the gains now will only increase. A reason to be cheerful.

I noticed yesterday in Chepstow the sunset was as late as 4:07pm. Maybe I should move south for the winter, like some of the birds…

Note one unchanged thing, though: The device is still spattered with raindrops.

December 15th – The magic numbers are important, so very important.

This is the data page of my bike GPS, the screen where I keep the figures important to me while riding – distance, battery level, time, average speed and all that geeky stuff. Top right number though, is sort of a mirror of the one bottom right; daily sunset time and sunrise.

Today, 3:52pm. This should, hopefully, be the earliest it gets. From now on, the sunset gets later every day (although the sunrise continues to get a wee bit later). This number is one of my small motivational yardsticks that get me through winter and this figure has several notable points; but none is more significant to me than this.

By January, it will be after 4pm again. It may be weeks away, but the darkness will be retreating, and spring will be tiptoeing in.

Today, as I wheeled the bike indoors from another wet commute, the raindrop-dappled glass glowed at me reassuringly in the darkness, and I knew in that instant that so very nearly, so very close now, so soon I will have beaten the advancing darkness for another season.

December 13th – I briefly caught the lantern parade at Chasewater, which was OK but didn’t seem to have the atmosphere or hubbub of the year before – perhaps it was the weather. Perhaps it was me.

On the way back though, the riding was fast and muddy, and Anglesey Wharf in the darkness was oddly ethereal.

Here’s to a better week, eh?

November 30th – New Street again, but early morning feelings rather than late night ones. Seven in the morning, steady rain, not yet clear of the night before.

Something about the light, machinery, wet urban surfaces, overhead wires and signals spoke quietly of urban strength, reassurance, safety, control. Alpha Tower in the distance stood as a fixing to location.

My feelings towards this place are ambivalent these days. But this morning, on the darkest and most miserable of days, something beautiful happened and it took my breath away.

It’s what Birmingham does, and I suspect has always done.

November 16th – A particularly hard ride home, and I’ve no idea why – I was just tired, I guess. The Black Cock Bridge was a tough too – and taking a breather at the top, I realised that this was the first time this year I’d commuted in both directions in darkness.

Still, it’s little more than a month until the darkness stops closing in and begins to retreat for another year.

Just where has this year gone?

October 26th – British summertime ended this weekend, which means my evening commute is abruptly plunged into darkness, but for a short time at least, the opposing morning journey is in the light once more.

When I passed Grove Hill this morning, the sun was well up and with the green on the lower slopes and soft light, this could be a spring morning in April.

October 18th – I also liked how beautiful Walsall Wood was on this greyest of grey Sundays. The trees around the Brookland Road junction look superb – and the church of St. John, this evening with lights on for a service -looked great with the turning leaves in the background.

I felt much better today. I got stuff actually done. Once the black dog settles in it can be the very devil to shift, and at this time of year I’m always susceptible. But in truth, the light nights will return, a new year and new spring will dawn, and I’ll feel the warmth again.

In the meantime, I’ll learn to love the darkness. Sometimes it’s your friend. But it’s like doing a deal with the devil.

There’s a lot of cold, a lot of rough weather and a lot of darkness to come before the next spring.

September 29th – Jockey Meadows and the surrounding farmland are shrugging on their Autumn jacket now; the colours are moving from greens and golds to taupe and dark brown. The crops have been harvested, and I expect soon these fields will be ploughed.

This is the sadness of the time of year for me; not yet 7pm, and getting dark; the colours of summer to the colours of cold, and hibernation.

And so the seasons tick on. I can feel the darkness creeping in…

April 10th – Cycling the Netherton Tunnel is a genuine challenge. The towpath is now deteriorating badly; it’s full of wheel-snatching potholes filled with obfuscating water that conceals their depth and severity. Water continually drips on you, and occasionally pours. Although you can see daylight, it’s a long time away. And then, the relentless, unforgiving task of riding for twenty minutes or so in a 4-foot gap between a wall that curves closely over your head and a corroded, week handrail.

The relentlessness of it, the eyestrain and psychological effort of keeping alert enough to keep everything flowing is a real challenge.

But I love it every time I do it. I’d say it’s for the experienced cyclist only, and take a hat, jacket and good light. But it is fun.

January 26th – In the centre of Darlaston, at the other end of the day, one of the last of a breed. Outside Darlaston’s wonderfully imperious Post Office, a classic K6 telephone box, still with the light and a phone.

I’ve never noticed this one before, and the light within them always gives me a warm feeling inside. Years ago, riding through the countryside at night, the sight of that red frame and white light would be reassuring; contact, signs of life and connection in the darkness. I even waited in them for showers and storms to pass.

These days, this classic design is rare, and even rarer with a functioning phone and light.

I’ve just realised this is the second OMD reference on this journal in little over a week…