Tag: overcast

April 7th – An awful, terrible horrible day in which little went to plan and I just gradually lost the will to try. A spin out in light drizzle late wasn’t so bad though, and did make me feel a little better.

As I headed up the canal towards Newtown, I realised that things are greening up well – the fields of Sandhills and Hammerwich are bright green, but have had little chance to shine as yet.

The mist and murk would ordinarily have been depressing, but for the fresh air, solitude and speed I was grateful. 

Life can be tough sometimes.

March 9th – Somehow without noticing, I have managed to slip the camera into 16:9 widescreen aspect, which takes me back ten years to using my first Panasonic camera, the peculiar little DMC-LX2 which was native 16:9 widescreen. That camera was limited, but bombproof, and I used it for years. I never quite loved it, but we had a close relationship.

It had been a wet commute home from Shenstone Station, and having to call into Stonnall I took the backlanes. The accidental 16:9 really suited the atmosphere: Although pre-sunset, it was dark, foreboding and grim.

But mercifully, also warm.

Spring seems reluctant to reveal herself this year.

December 26th – The Boxing Day weather was altogether better, but still somewhat grey and overcast with that keen wind. Again, bad weather was forecast for the evening, with heavy rain and even snow predicted. 

I slipped out at lunchtime into a grey landscape, and was encouraged to find these bright honey fungus clumps growing on an tree stump on the Black Path.

Some days, the mere sight of something natural and bright is enough to improve your day.

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 6th – For reasons too complicated to go into here, my moaning about the daily routine and the greyness of life and the weather were heeded by fate and I found myself visiting Matlock and Matlock Bath in the afternoon on a work related trip. Having to leave a vehicle behind, I’d taken my bike and had a ride down the A6.

Matlock is a nice enough town, with some great architecture, but could do with a little more variety in the shops. But I have to say on the whole it’s a classic Derbyshire river-valley town; beautiful, unpretentious and charming.

Further south, at Matlock Bath, things were a shade more grim. Matlock Bath seems to have been in steady decline since I first visited the place in the 1980s. A tourist stop off and motorcyclist haunt, this odd little town clings to the Derwent gorge with an air of faded, seedy seaside glamour. There must be eight or more chip shops; several sweet shops selling exactly the same stuff, and more than a handful of jaded amusement arcades and pubs. 

The architecture and riverside are beautiful; but there are many closed shops and it’s hard to escape the feeling of something passed from life, if not exactly to death, then to some sort of ghost existence.

But then again, it’s possible that Matlock Bath has been like this ever since it’s heyday in the Victorian years. The place reminded me of one of those lost seaside resorts that were once locally popular but now are only half remembered, like Rhyl or Withernsea. 

Perhaps it was the season and the weather, but the sadness of this place was almost enjoyable. 

Perhaps on a sunny, summer day it acquaints itself better.

September 15th – A bad day in many ways, when not much seemed to go to plan. It wasn’t very bad, just loads of minor irritations – and the weather; occasionally sunny and deceptively warm, but at other times almost painfully chilly, as if winter’s fingers were starting to get their grip on things.

The first tinges of the oncoming cold and dark are always the hardest, and this year they’ve come a lot sooner that I expected – but we have kind of got used to Indian summers in recent years, so perhaps this is a return to normal.

I came back from work in heavy, intemperate traffic having to make a call near Streets Corner, and all the while the skies to the south were showing evil intent. 

When I got home, mercifully before the rain came – I realised how glad I was to be back.

Some days, home is the best place to be.

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.

August 3rd – It’s been a few weeks since I called at Telford, and was pleased to note the flowerbed at the station has now been replanted with late flowering plants and as ever, is a credit to those that look after it.

Resplendent in shades of red, white and blue the yellow flowers are curious and I’ve not seen them here before. Anyone know what they are?

A lovely bit of brightness on an otherwise dull day.

April 30th – Worst bank holiday weekend weather-wise I can remember for a while. Bad Bank Holiday weather is a cliche in the UK, but recent years have generally been decent for most of them; this weekend has been cold, grey and periodically showery and not very springlike at all.

I popped up to Walsall Wood on an errand late afternoon. It was reasonably still, and spring is showing it’s colours and freshness beautifully, it’s just a shame the sun and warmth haven’t made it here yet…

March 28th – On a grey, misty and cold morning running through Wednesbury on an errand, what better pick-me-up than this embankment of daffodils?

I was cold, and not feeling the love at all, but these reversed my gloom. Daffodils are such lovely flowers and I adore the way they transform even mundane industrial estates like this.