December 29th – I had to pop up Walsall Wood, late. A curious thing about Walsall Wood is looking back up the High Street towards Streets Corner, it always looks like it might be Christmas, even on a midsummer night, such are the many lights that make it such a charming view.
Walsall Wood is a place people pass through without studying. It really is worthy of closer study; it’s a lovely place.
December 29th – Winter is a normalisation process for me. I enter it, kicking and screaming and resistant, headlong into the darkness; I fight my way through the suck, the suck that is the autumn commute, and by the time I emerge blinking and dazed from Christmas, I’m sort of used to it.
I’ve got used to the absence of light – which is OK now as it’s returning; I’ve acclimatised to the cold; and I’ve learned once more to look for oddities and interesting images in low-light urbanity.
Silver Court in Brownhills does Architecture and Morality. Peter Saville has nothing to fear.
Meanwhile, I trundle towards new year still nursing a bad shoulder and dreaming of warmer days…
December 27th – Crossing Catshill Junction Bridge, the ice was treacherous and I was glad to be on studded tyres. Whilst taking the photograph of Humphries House, I could hear a nearby radio, and was confused where it might be coming from. Coming down the bridge towards Brownhills, I noticed a tent in the darkness; there was a fisherman there on the far side, with all the kit for night fishing.
That’s hardy on a night like this – respect.
December 27th – Still suffering with the shoulder, I went for a short ride to Tesco after darkness fell.
This period – between Christmas and New Year – can vary in character immensely. It can vary from being wonderful (in decent weather) to being deadly dull if the weather is bad. I’m not feeling anything much at the moment, as I’m still recovering from the enervation of work recently.
Looking out at the lights of the Watermead Estate from the canal at Silver Street, I was hoping for good weather and a quick recovery.
December 25th – As I returned towards Brownhills the rain got heavier and heavier. My waterproofs were working well, but it was cold, I couldn’t see due to the rain in my face and everywhere was sodden.
But if felt like the best ride I’d had for ages.
Something about the harsh weather, darkness and wind mingled, and made me feel alive.
December 25th – Happy Christmas. My goodness, that was a long time coming…
I was away in daylight at a family do and didn’t get chance for the traditional Christmas Day Ride; this wasn’t really to bad as my shoulder was still stiff and the weather was wolfish and blustery.
I returned in the evening, and went for a spin in heavy rain. I don’t know why, perhaps it was a reaction to the enforced socialising, but I had on waterproofs and just rode for all I was worth; out via Ogley Hay, up Chasetown High Street, over to Sankey’s Corner, back over Chasewater and up the canal back to Brownhills via Catshill Junction.
Obviously, the photography opportunities were not copious, but I thought the lights of the Sankeys Corner Christmas tree in aid of Stephen Sutton were beautiful in the wet night.
December 23rd – I was aiming for a great ride; I needed to go to Whittington to get some Christmas food in from a trader I know there. I rode out as dusk fell, but this last Saturday before Christmas the roads were full of drivers – mainly taxis and private hire, it has to be said – who weren’t concentrating, or at least not focussed. I got cut up. I got close passed. The roads didn’t feel safe, and neither did I.
Rolling into Lichfield, my nerves were shot.
The city was equally odd. This was to be the last real shopping day before Christmas, as it falls on a Monday this year, and Sunday restrictions would apply. But the place was full of high spirited drinkers and stragglers, and the atmosphere was quite hostile. I took some hurried shots, and rode home.
Not as festive as I’d hoped, to be honest…
December 22nd – Often if I’ve had a long day away, I come to see Morris, the Brownhills Colossus, as his creator John McKenna called him. I have mixed feelings that are well known about the origins and personal politics surrounding Morris, the Brownhills Miner but I do love him to bits. Seeing this 30 foot demonstration of finite element modelling always makes me feel at home now.
Just wish they’d fix the spotlights.
I love how, at Christmas, the lights on the trees give the sculpture a little bit of a ‘Last performance at Vegas feel.
We’ve all got a bit of Vegas in us. Especially Morris.
Rock on my metal mate. Rock on.
December 22nd – I’d had a day Christmas shopping in Buxton by train, and came home hungry. Feeling the takeaway urge, I headed out for fresh air to stretch my muscles and bag a decent curry.
Where else do you go to recharge late on a quiet, dark Friday night in Brownhills?
I guess the wind blew me this way. The canal was still, the boats peaceful, with just a hint of woodsmoke.
I love how this town can be so unexpectedly beautiful.
December 21st – I had to return to Shenstone to pick something up I’d spotted the day before, so rode over there on my way back from Darlaston.
Whilst there, a lovely, Christmassy, almost Dickensian image – the florist’s shop, closed for the night, but subtly festive.
Really into this Solstice/Chrismas thing now. And there’s a big reason for that….
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