Tag: loss

#365daysofbiking For those about to rock:

September 30th – The water level at Chasewater has been dropping since late summer, due to the valves being left open allowing the reservoir to drain into the canal. The drop in water level I was told was necessary to facilitate one of the periodic dam inspections that are required here, but also to undertake some maintenance on the causeway the bisects the lake from Jeffrey’s Swag, by carrying the railway and main footway to the North Heath.

Where the embankment has been collapsing, large rocks are being laid to make up for the loss, and presumably to form a barrier for further damage.

It looks like a proper job, too – not like the piles of concrete posts that were used for this purpose in the early 70s.

July 17th – Following the news of the sad loss of fellow blogger and friend The Plastic Hippo, today was difficult, sad and low. He followed this journal avidly.

I fought through it, and carried on. But it was hard.

I never realised that you could feel such loss for someone you knew so little about.

As I climbed the steps from Shenstone station, the sky was dramatic and beautiful. And beneath it, I was hollow.

Goodbye, pal. 

June 11th – On a post repair test ride, bad news.

The Watermead swan family are now down to five from the original six. The remaining cygnets looked healthy and well though.

Most likely the victim of a hungry fox, it’s normal to lose a cygnet or two to predators in every urban clutch – we’ve been lucky in recent years to be relatively unscathed, but one has to remember the prodigious clutch sizes of these birds and consider that maybe some population control is natural.

When the youngsters start ground roosting separately as opposed to in a protective huddle, they are easy prey to Reynard and hopeful, the loss has been a warning to the remaining five.

Sad, so very sad – but it’s nature, red in tooth and claw.

April 22nd – The late Lichfeldian touring cyclist and acquaintance Maurice Purser used to tell me you could see 7 spires/towers and/or churches from Pipe Hill. Maurice, who enjoyed such puzzles, had me scouring for months with binoculars in the mid-80s. What actually solved it for me was not careful scrutiny of the city skyline from high up here past Mickle Hills, but a map.

Maurice liked riddles especially if they were a bit misleading. At some point I looked at a map, and noticed that Aldershawe, the country house visible 90 degrees sunwise from this view had a private chapel. So whilst the riddle was correct, it was a bit cunning.

These days, Aldershawe is divided into smaller dwellings and you can’t see any of it from here for trees.

With a decent zoom on a reasonable day though, Lichfield’s churches, spires and rooftops still come alive, and a middle aged cyclist remembers this view as a young lad, with a leathery, weathered older gent telling tall tales of derring-do.

Wherever you are Maurice, may it be hawthorn free, the wind at your back, the sun on your face, and speed in your wheels. And a good cafe stop.

October 13th – Passing through Kings Hill, Darlaston today I noted activity on the site of the old Servis washing machine factory. This site – derelict for years, and once posited as the site of a new retail and leisure park by a prominent, diminutive Walsall Councillor – last year had a new housing estate approved for it. Like the Exidoor factory nearby, industry is being replaced in this area by houses.

I’m sure they’ll be nice, but it’s hard not to lament the loss of jobs and occupation.

Still, the drilling rigs are on site, and a surveyor has clearly been very thorough in marking out the subterranean hazards that lie beneath, judging by the spray-paint hieroglyphics all over the paths and road nearby.

September 5th – On the way back, I popped to the church at Stonnall, to have another look for the grave of an old acquaintance I knew was there, but had been unable to find for years. I finally found it – slightly neglected, lettering disappearing to the weather, but still there – and unguardedly, I fell into memories for a while.

Decades ago, we’d cycled these lanes together, and discovered places like this quiet churchyard. We weren’t huge pals, but we rode together fairly often, and shared the odd pint.

As I looked from the churchyard over Stonnall, the air had a scent of autumn, and the landscape concurred. I felt a little autumn inside, too.

Time and memory wears you like a stream polishes a pebble bed.

Stepping back into the light, I got on my bike, and rode home.

June 5th – I saw what I assume are the Watermead swan family on the canal mid afternoon; sadly they seem to have lost a cygnet – most likely to a fox now they’re growing so large. It’s sad, but natural – the fox has to feed too, and it’s why swans have such large clutches.

The remainder look healthy and are feeding well, and are growing at an alarming rate.

Let’s hope mum and dad select safe roosting sites at night from now on.

May 27th – I guess a lost balloon is a reflection on the sadness of things, and that woeful feeling of loss a child develops when something is gone for good.

But it’s also a symbol of pollution.

I see lots of balloons as I ride around – town or country trapped in hedges, trees, verges, fields and scrub – and also in the canal. Eventually, it will deflate, and lurk, another piece of plastic detritus waiting to choke the wildlife and add to the building polymer poison time bomb.

I know it’s not a popular view but I wish these things we rarer.