October 10th – A spin around Brownhills on a grey afternoon on errands and to get some air. I wasn’t feeling too well and the grey autumn day wasn’t helping my mood.
By my cyclic antidepressant worked, and a ride cheered me up. Nice views of the Common, and still, this late, flowers and colour.
Can I really face another winter? I guess so, but I really don’t fancy it this year.
July 26th – In heavy rain, a flotilla of swans. not far from the place I last saw them, cruising for all the world like it was a bright, sunny day.
I don’t suppose they care about the rain.
They had somewhere to be, and were travelling with purpose. But despite the horrid, grey weather, they just sailed on like it didn’t matter – because to them, it clearly doesn’t.
I should be more like the swans. Rainy days like this pull me down. But soon the sun will shine, and the world will seem brighter once more.
January 22nd – I passed through New Street mid-afternoon. The whole place was grey. It’s still chaos, and has been clearly designed with anything but the passengers in mind.
I stood waiting for a late train. Ever signal I could see was red. Sometimes, commuting feels like this.
To quote Dexy’s, tell me when my red light turns green.
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.
August 25th – A wet, miserable bank holiday Monday. This was the wettest, coldest one I think I’ve ever known. I always find this day depressing; it’s the last holiday before Christmas, and for me, seems to flag the end of summer. A week later, the kids will all be back at school, the nights will be drawing in even more, and the sun will lose it’s warmth.
In short, we’re advancing to Autumn at a fair lick now.
I rode out mid morning during a lull in the rain, and spun around Brownhills and Chasewater. The fruits, glistening with rain, were gorgeous, and the heather is particularly beautiful at the moment. The still green embankments and hedgerows cut a bright dash through the gloom.
I did note puffballs on the old railway off Engine Lane, another harbinger of Autumn.
At Chasewater, the valves are fully open and the waterlevel is dropping quickly. I wonder if there’s a purpose to this, as the canal is clearly full to overflowing.
A grim ride on a grim day. Brace yourselves, summer is closing out now.
January 21st – It’s not kicked off to be a good week. I’ve had a ton of work dropped on me, and the railway system seems to be in a permanent state of entropy at the moment.
I left work in Telford late, having tried all day to solve an ostensibly simple problem, without success. Riding back from Walsall, it was wet, but drier and warmer that the previous morning.
Tired and ground down, I remember little of the journey home, as often happens, but I did find this image on the camera I don’t remember taking whilst stopped on red at Rushall Square.
I’ve had enough of the dark and wet days. I need to move into the light.
November 3rd – Today, the season’s wheel clicked round another notch. The wind that so harangued me the day before had died right down, but the temperature had dropped, too. Today, I realised once and for all that winter, if not quite on her throne, was certainly waiting in the wings.
I left mid afternoon, with grand ideas of tearing up the Chase, but I was dressed too lightly and I felt cold and despite the sun, quite down in the dumps, if I’m honest. No reason to be, other than the passage of warmth and the advancing of the seasons; this time of year I always wonder if I have the strength inside to face another winter of dark nights, cold commutes and lifeless countryside.
I headed up over Chasewater and Cuckoo Bank, down Rainbow Hill and over Slitting Mill. A quick coffee at sunset, and back over Penkridge Bank. I saw deer, but it was too dark to get a good picture. Returning cold and in darkness, I felt a world away from warm, sunny afternoons. I was heavy hearted and my very bones ached.
I bloody hate this time of year.
October 12th – Lower than a snake’s knees. I had a mountain of other work to do, the rain was pouring most of the day and the autumn blues were really biting. I couldn’t get it on to write, or get myself organised. It’s fair to say I was as miserable as sin.
I went out as dark fell early, and shot up the canal to Chasewater in heavy rain. I blasted through puddles and threw the bike round corners and inclines to try to get my mojo back. It worked, for a fashion.
I noticed at Newtown near the A5 that the anti-vehicle gate – swinging unlocked for the past 6 or 7 years – has been wired shut with barbed wire by someone. This is not good – folk in mobility scooters do come down here and the gates are supposed to be locked with RADAR keys. I’ve never really been sure what purpose this one serves, anyway, as it doesn’t prevent motorbike access from either of the adjacent bridges.
I’m a bit concerned about this.
August 27th – I noted recently that rosebay willow herb is called ‘old man’s beard’ due to the white, fluffy, wind-borne seeds it spawns at this time of year. Another prolific source of the familiar ‘fairies’ that float on the breeze are thistles, also plants of the margins and hinterlands. Gorgeous at the moment in their downy decadence, they are a food source for small birds like finches, and also for any passing donkeys, who love thistles with a passion.
May 29th – I had expected to get very wet on my return home. As it happened, it was merely a light drizzle, in the gap between downpours, but there was a significant headwind, and the going was grim. Cowparsley and hawthorn buds line the verges and hedgerows, and the cheesy scent of rapeseed hangs heavy. But there’s little sun about, and the lanes look grey and dull. Even the rabbit that darted in front of me, causing me to brake sharply was soaking wet.
We must be due a hot, dry spell soon, please?
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