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.

September 8th – This is a relic of a different time, and most people never, ever notice it. This barcode sign, fixed to a lamp post on the Chester Road in Brownhills, just down from the Shire Oak, is a remnant of a system devised in the the eighties and implemented in the nineties for automatically assessing road maintenance. Surveying vehicles would drive the roads, checking the surface, just as they do now, but in the absence of cheap, accurate GPS, onboard systems looked for markers like this. Upon registering one, the recorder then reset a distance counter. The marker sign was read automatically, and the location of a defect being recorded by the distance from the last marker seen. Thus repair vehicles could locate faults the same way. Each sign gave a unique number. The whole network was obsolete in less than a decade, but the signs remain, puzzling anyone who notices them.