October 11th – Coming back from Lichfield, the weather quickly turned grim. There was a real downpour, and without my usual armoury of waterproofs, I had no choice but to get wet. With every passing wagon on the A461, it was like being jet washed. I arrived home cold, wet, exhausted and thoroughly dejected. Why do I do this again?
September 29th – It’s finally happened. We’ve had so much rain in recent months, the Chasewater has refilled to an unthought of degree. Now, the water level is registering on the scale on the pier; just 20 days ago it was well below it. The scale starts at 148.35m AOD, having risen from it’s low point of 143.7m AOD last September. A huge gain, nobody thought this was really possible.
Mind you, the price of this restoration has been a bloody awful summer…
September 26th – The poor weather continues. On my way to work, despite expecting a dry run, it rained; and also, on my return. I got the train to Lichfield, and did some shopping on my way back. The evening alternated between a searching, oddly penetrative drizzle and bright skies with a little hazy sunshine. Crossing Summerhill on the A461 Lichfield Road, I noticed the sunset was stunning. Lets have more of this, and less of the rain, please. Come on, weather, you’ve made your point…
September 25th – After a bright start, I’d braced myself for a very, very grim commute home, the forecast was awful. As it happened though, it was just drizzly wet, and the wind was behind me. I think I must be getting inured, but I haven’t noticed webs developing between my toes yet. Coming up the ramp at Walsall, I looked, as I often do, at the overhead supply catenary for the railway. The complexity of this system fascinates me, and today, I could hear it crackle and buzz in the wet. Years of design refinement have made this system generally very weatherproof, and that’s a remarkable thing. The 25,000 volts coursing over that metalwork doesn’t take prisoners and will arc long distances in the damp. Railway people are given to calling the overheads ‘knitting’, and you can see why.
September 24th – The bad evening predicated a bad morning; it was one of the worst commutes weather-wise I’d had for years. Thanks to a tipoff early on twitter by Aiden MacHaffie, I knew before I left that trains on the Cross City were shafted, and my journey would therefore have to start at Walsall. Heading to Tyseley in heavy rain, the usually assortment of bad weather bad drivers made themselves painfully evident. The trains were rammed, and by the time I found myself waiting at Moor Street, I was wet, chilly and down in the dumps. I don’t know so much about autumn, someone seems to have left the door open and winter wandered in. Ugh.
23rd September – This is an awful photo, but it was an awful evening. It does, however, show that the flooding problem at Anchor Bridge, Brownhills, has been alleviated somewhat. In very heavy rain, a pool still forms on the southbound side, but of nothing like the severity it was, and I think most of that is more to do with the physics of the road than any drain blockage. It’s taken a long time, and an awful lot of folks to sort this out. Well done to everyone who’s had a go over the years – from councillors to locals.
Sorting stuff like this shouldn’t be that hard…
September 21st – Late afternoon, the heavens opened. It’s been a fairly dry month, so it wasn’t too bad. But it affected my mood: it’s now the autumnal equinox when day is the same length as night, and the earth neither tilts toward, or away from, the sun. We are now crossing into astronomical autumn and winter, and the driving rain and wet countryside reminded me of this. I feel like this every year, before the leaves turn and the countryside becomes once more golden. It never gets easier, if I’m honest. It’s hard being an outdoors person when the nights draw in.
September 19th – I wasn’t feeling lucky, but it seemed fortune was on my side. I came back to Walsall on the train, and rain ominously flecked the windows. Emerging into the light, the rain – which I was dreading, with no waterproofs – hadn’t reached Walsall. I raced home, the sky to the north east getting darker and darker. Arriving home dry, I was feeling rather smug… But as it happened, the threatening skies never delivered, so I was safe after all.
September 12th – A poor day; I left home in the morning during a rain shower, and as I left work that afternoon in Tyseley, the heavens opened. There are few places greyer than Tyseley when it rains. The showers were very localised, however, and on my return, the sun came out at Duddeston, but it was raining hard at Perry Barr.
Welcome to Britain, and the most fickle weather in the world. Come on you gits, where’s that Indian Summer you owe us?
August 29th – In complete contrast to the day before, I travelled to Darlaston in a rainstorm. Wet and miserable, I slid through the streets of Walsall. Fed up of the traffic, at Bridgman Street, I dropped onto the canal towpath for peace and quiet. Near Bentley Bridge, I suddenly noticed these flowers growing in the reed-beds at the side of the water. They instantly cheered me up. I have no idea (as usual!) what they are, but their dainty blooms were just the tonic on a damp and chilly journey to work.
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