March 5th – In Birmingham early evening, pottering from meeting to coffee shop to meeting, with a new camera to try out. All these shots were handheld, quick grabs. The image processing on the TZ70 is streets ahead of the TZ60. I like this a lot.
Almost as much as I love Birmingham – my past, present and future. I love this place with all my heart.
It’ll be even better when they finish building it.
March 3rd – I was quite lucky with this, too; also handheld. The moon was my companion tonight as I rode through Sheffield and Walsall Wood, I noticed how bright it was. I love how if you can photograph it, detail you can’t see with the naked eye becomes evident.
All those miles of nothing between me and the moon. And yet, man has been there, and landed on that glowing ball.
Such a wonderful, enchanting thought.
March 3rd – Cold, windy. Horrid journeys to work, fast and fun journeys back. It seems we’re in for a blustery spring, but it was light nearly all the way home tonight – another week, and I might get home in the light.
Ah, blessed light.
I’ve been fiddling with the new camera – astoundingly to me, these shots were all handheld (I don’t have steady hands). This one seems more sensitive, if that’s the word, and seems to select a faster shutter in lower light than previous models. I’m liking it a lot.
It was a fair sunset tonight, but clear, and harsh. I was glad to get in.
February 26th – In Birmingham at twilight, I was without any kind of tripod, so practiced a steady hand. I used to pass through Colmore a lot, but in recent years barely at all. When I was here a lot, there was a Somerfield where the Costa is, the Waitrose hadn’t been built and the Sainsbury’s was a Marks and Spencer. It was never this handsome at dusk, either; several of the office blocks here are relatively new.
Like Walsall, Birmingham is not mine anymore; places I was familiar with, things I remember, bars, cafes and shops I haunted long gone. Yet I still feel at home here.
Unlike Walsall, change has always been Birmingham’s modus operandi. And it’s getting better and better at it.
February 19th – Snatched quickly whilst stopped at the lights, on the commute home 13 hours later. The ring road in Walsall is almost deserted, and it’s raining. Everything is wet, and colours blend and blur in the night. I’m tired. My eyes are sore from fatigue. But the wind was behind me, it was pleasingly warm, and to see the beauty of the wet, urban kaleidoscope was a minor but tangible joy.
February 14th – Down in Stonnall, it was a wet and murky night, and the lights of the two pubs in the village shone out like homely beacons as I rode past. The Royal Oak is quite different in character and clientele to the Old Swan which is I guess the reason the two survive, although both have felt the cold wind of commercial pressure in recent years.
Tonight, glancing in as I freewheeled past, both seemed reasonably full, which can only be good news. Decent pubs make for good communities.
February 13th – I had another stop to make on the way home – Asda. I was so bleary I got scant few of the things I was supposed to get, and if you ever want to know what a supermarket looks like after a riot, do visit Asda in Walsall late on Friday night. It was like a scene from The Day After. Complete with the walking dead – me.
I poured myself liquid down the marketplace, and the lights of the deserted Bridge snagged my attention; the night-time workers were about – posties, shopfitters, sign people – but nobody else. The light, the colour, the wet surfaces. In a moment, this place was precious.
I smiled to myself, and rode slowly, inexorably home. I remember very little of the journey, except it took me 45 minutes.
February 13th – Unlucky for some, it was not a great day for me; I was at work far too late, and I stubbornly remained long after I was any use. Tired, mentally exhausted, I came back from Darlaston in a miserable fug; I’d mislaid something and spent an hour looking, which was bothering me. There was a steady, eroding drizzle and a slow puncture was dogging my progress. Hunger was also on my shoulders.
I rode somnambulently into Caldmore for indian snacks to take home. My usual store of choice was long since closed, but another nearby was open, and I hungrily chose vegetable kebabs, samosa, spinach paneer bhajis and pakora. The sauce was bravely supplied in a plastic bag, which I popped unopened in my travel mug. I wasn’t too fuzzy to risk a saddlebag full of goop, no matter how tasty.
I was still knackered, but I felt brighter. There was food in my saddlebag, and the rain was easing. Maybe I could make it home without stopping to pump up the tyre again…
February 10th – A little way down the High Street, the pleasant church of St. John, another part of Walsall Wood that looks good lit up in the dark. I’ve always liked the elegant lines of the tower and church, before the hideous modern extension was added. This was a simple, understated design that has been utterly bastardised by the cruel abuse of the architects, who completely failed to understand the beauty of this church, as they did so many in the diocese sullied by their handiwork.
February 10th – Working late, and a late journey home through Walsall Wood to drop something off. I love this small but busy High Street at night. Still retaining a village atmosphere, the lights, pubs and takeaways make it seem welcoming and pleasant.
I’ll be so glad when the light nights come back. I think I’ve had enough of the darkness now.
BrownhillsBob's #365daysofbiking 