#365daysofbiking That’s some hammock:

November 12th – Back in Redditch and an ageing Dawes Ultra Galaxy – a classic British tourer – caked in the bike shed.

I don;’t know who this fine stetted belongs to, but I noted the nurse’s lock and Brooks leather saddle.

However well ridden and looked after, though, one thing stands out: That saddle. The tension has never been adjusted, and that is more like a hammock.

Bet that’s an interesting ride…

#365daysofbiking Bitter gourds:

November 7th – One of the odder recurring themes of this blog over the years has been the errant, discarded pumpkin. Whether is’s apparently forgotten in inner city Acocks Green,  cruelly cast aside on a country lane or just randomly left on a canal bank, I see more of these forlorn gourds abandoned than any other.

These otherwise untouched, whole specimens – that would have made a decent meal for several people (and it looks like a fox already had tried and got bored with one) were inexplicably lying around in Victoria Park, Darlaston.

#365daysofbiking Here I stand:

November 6th – One thing I forgot in the years I hadn’t been coming to Redditch is a small rule that also applies to fellow new town Telford – never risk an unknown shortcut when in a hurry.

I was dashing for the train. I took what I thought would be a route around by the bus station and under the subway to the station. Instead, I lost all sense of direction totally and ended up on a ringway flyover overlooking it, a good 10 metres above where I needed to be with no easy way back other than to retrace my steps.

Urban design on such an inhuman scale does not make for intuitive routes.

Redditch should come with a decent cheat sheet for those on foot and cycling….

#365daysofbiking Going it alone:

September 27th – On the canal near Walsall town centre, I was accosted, as one often is, but loud, bullying, aggressive beggars, of the kind that inhabit most urban canals.

In this case, it was a pair of cygnets. On their own without mum and dad, they were enjoying the sun and harassing any passing human for food. When I declined for the seemingly perfectly valid reason that I had none to offer, they swam off, complaining noisily.

Nice to see them in rude health and taking after their parents.

August 12th – I didn’t find the deer, and it started to rain. But these guys really did cheer me up – the Chasewater North Heath coos. They were moving off the low heath up into the scrub for shelter I think, and didn’t give a toss who they held up, which is exactly how it should be. Their nosiness, and gentle inquisition charmed me as it always does, and I cycled on with a smile on my face.

Well done, lads. Mission accomplished.

August 9th – The herons are still ubiquitous on the local canals and it’s not hard to see why; the numbers of fish these quiet, urban waterways are host to now is quite amazing – you see shoals of them surfacing and for the comedically shabby, grey expert fishers these must be good times indeed.

This one who seemed fairly elderly was clearly annoyed at me disturbing the catch of the day, and continually flew away, only to land 20 yards further up the towpath and have to move again as I pressed onward to work.

I’ll never understand why herons do that.