December 1st – Visiting Walsall Wood on an errand on my way home, I stopped to admire their excellent Christmas tree in the grounds of St. john’s Church, which is always a personal donation by the local councillors, which is jolly nice of them.
The church also looked lovely in the cold night.
The Wood is absolutely lovely at night… even more so at Christmas.
November 30th – Heading home that evening I hit the canal at the Black Cock Bridge and rode into Brownhills in peaceful, cold darkness.
I stopped to have a go at one of my favourite muses – Clayhanger Bridge by night – and by removing the bike light, putting it on full and shining round, I don’t think I got a bad pic.
That’s ice on the canal, by the way.
November 24th – Taking a shortcut up Pier Street, I noticed that the boiler in the OAP club was running, and the plume of water vapour generated was drifting into the night illuminated by the sodium floodlight above.
At long exposure, it looked ghostly, but probably looked better in the shorter shot.
I watched it for a while, the patterns and colour were oddly mesmerising.
November 24th – Returning to Brownhills after a long day at work, ice was forming on the towpath puddles and it felt like the hard, dry cold of winter was setting in. But it was very clear and there was a lovely moon to boot.
I had a saddlebag full of fish and chips for tea for me and those at home, and it felt, despite the cold, like a decent night.
First time I’ve had me tail up for weeks, as my father might have said.
November 22nd – Coming through New Street Station at night, rush hour on a foul blustery evening when all the trains are messed up.
I’d rather be anywhere else than here.
Nothing sums up the deadzone, the suck, this awful time of year: no end to the advancing darkness, travel worsening daily, weather closing in.
And yet, there’s something awfully optimistic about it. You know that in a few short weeks, it’ll be over, and we’ll be opening out again.
Patience. Patience.
November 20th – One of the joys of winter is riding in the forest at night. On the trail between Birches Valley and Fairoak, there wasn’t a soul around and I listened intently to the wildlife. In the undergrowth, mustelids and rodents scampered and scurried. A robin sang. Owls hooted and shrieked. Somewhere off in the distance, a deer stag was bellowing.
The forest at night isn’t scary or spooky – it’s beautiful and fascinating.
November 15th – And back, so it was, to Shenstone, an altogether different type of late-night feeling. This is a beautiful building, in a lovely location, and a great place to leave, but even better to return to.
I love it at night, the way it’s lit, the overhead wires, the sense of an island in the darkness. A beacon, calling me toward home, just a few miles to go.
A haunting, gorgeous station.
November 15th – Late in the day, I popped into Birmingham to meet a prospective new cwork colleague, and came back as I often used to frequently, through a somnambulant, night-time Birmingham New Street Station.
The renovations here seem to have finished – although they don’t look it and the Stephenson street footbridge looks like the work stopped abruptly halfway through. But then, there’s only so much polishing and sprinkling with cheap glitter that can mask this huge architectural turd.
The place was charming though in it’s own night-time way, and once again, that late-night feelings vibe started to hit me.
If you don’t know what I’m talking about, see this post here.
Why does that haunt me so?
November 11th – I wasn’t well following the procedure I’d had in the week, as I’d neglected my medication, so I took a short spin out for some air after dark.
It was a good chance to try long exposure photography, and the results weren’t too bad. But my heart wasn’t in it: I was cold, tired, fed up, and returned home with a heavy heart.
November 5th – Returning via Longdon and Burntwood, the moon, rising through a cloud of firework night fug, was a lovely orange colour while still low. From a fence-post in Cold Well, it didn’t make a bad image. Apparently it was a super moon or something, but every moon seems special these days, and I hanker for the days when we just had a normal moon that was just as beautiful but few noticed.
Crossing the M6 Toll at Brownhills this time, I was interested in the way the lights caught the smog, but the photos didn’t turn out so well. The change to LED lights on the toll road has certainly made it more ethereal at night.
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