Tag: grey

December 2nd – Again passing through the Wood, this time to Screwfix, it was a grim, miserable, drizzly dank day – but at least it was much, much warmer than in previous days.

The ice was melting, and some of the less religiously inclined types were relishing their fast diminishing ability to walk on water…

November 20th – I’ve seen herons do many odd things in my time cycling the canals. They are distinctly eccentric birds, who clearly operate to their own rules and desires.

But I’ve never had one so determinedly turn it’s back on me before. It is absolutely, unquestionably giving me the shoulder.

I presume it’s annoyed because I disturbed a fishing session.

Well, pardon me, fishbreath…

November 20th – The last shreds of daylight, heading between Tipton and Moxley on the canal in an overcast, damp Black Country late autumn Monday. You’d think this would be depressing, but it wasn’t; despite the awful light, the drizzle and relentless oncoming darkness, fallen leaves dappled the canal. Peace reigned. There was colour fighting through the gloom. And what else?

Peace and quiet.

This’ll do. It’s not exactly winning, but it’s definitely breaking even.

October 5th – A headache-grey, overcast and unpleasant day that was as grim and hard to face as the weather on the commute. Work is challenging at the moment and leaving me incredibly tired, day after day.

I’ve never known a summer end so abruptly and just dive headlong into a grim, grey, lifeless autumn like this – yes, the fungi is plentiful and the trees beautiful; but day after day the grey, sunshineless gloom is hard work.

I need a holiday. Returning home via a gloomy Catshill Junction, I was, for once fed up of the view.

September 30th – A wet, miserable grey day when little went right and I really didn’t feel the love at all. I really needed to be out and get some air, but work was demanding and the conditions not conducive. I’m really missing that Indian summer I was hoping for.

In the early evening gloom with night descending, I popped out on some errands, and spun around Brownhills. In steady rain on the Pier Street bridge, I remembered how beautiful this place is in the darkness of even a wet, grey, loveless evening.

September 25th – Heading home on a grey day, there was little to inspire, but whilst admiring the colours in the scrub near the new pond in Clayhanger, wishing we had sunshine to set them afire, I noticed a cat there I’d not seen before, presumably a ways away from home. A lovely ginger tabby, it gave me one glance, then high tailed it back down the old rail line path.

Even the cats didn’t want to speak to me…

September 8th – Returning to Brownhills and home, the skies were threatening and it didn’t look like it was going to be a good evening. Looking distinctly black over Bill’s Mother’s, I surveyed the still green canal and banks from near the canoe centre, and unusual angle if I’m honest that I always overlook.

It was good to be near home – the week had been long and trying.

September 3rd – The day was grim and overcast, and the weather horrid, and I was wiped out from the ride the day before. I confined myself to a short ride around Pelsall, Brownhills and Shelfield via the canal and old rail cycleway.

From the day before, in shirtsleeves getting a tan and sweating in the sun, to this: There was an unpleasant nip in the air, a serious wind and autumn touching the greenery in a way I find sad.

I do hope that wasn’t summer’s last breath…

September 1st – I returned from work mercifully early and did some work on the bike, before taking a spin late in the afternoon. Despite it being colder of late, the cat population is still active (well, as active as these laid back creatures get) and I spotted two cats I’d not met before: a black one peering at me from behind a car near Catshill Junction, and further up as I headed to Chasewater, the splendid grey and white youngster in a back garden near Millfield School.

Oh how I love these impromptu neighbour watches…