Tag: rain

August 27th – I bloody hate summer bank holiday. To me, perhaps wrongly, it represents the end of summer. Last break until Christmas, from now, the nights draw in in earnest, the weather closes in and the warm days and sunshine once again become hazy memories. Except this year, we didn’t have much summer, either, and I felt doubly cheated.

I had to skip over to Burntwood at teatime. Driving rain, and a biting headwind. Some times, people ask me why I do this: today, deprived of summer and battling the elements, I was asking the question of myself…

July 19th – The rains didn’t stay way for long. I was working from home, drowning under a shedload of paperwork. Late afternoon, I popped out to get some shopping in. As I left, the soft drizzle that had been falling turned into a downpour. 

There are few places greyer than Brownhills when it rains. I’m currently wondering whether it’s worth having my whole body waterproofed, like you can with tents…

July 18th – Everything is all to cock. Normally in summer, you have sunny days, and dull, rainy days. This summer you get dull, rainy weeks and sunny hours. It was in one such sunny hour I found myself in on the way back from work. It wasn’t terribly warm, but the countryside around Jockey Meadows and Bullings Heath at Walsall Wood looked superb. We’d hat a lot of rain, and Green Lane had again flooded, prompting the usual displays of lousy driving. The still-wet greenery, however, made it all seem worthwhile.

Hopefully, the weather is now limbering up for one whole sunny morning…

July 18th – I cycled to work in Darlaston in a rainstorm, for what seemed like the thousandth time. I came up through Shelfied and Walsall with a heavy heart; the wind was against me and I was getting rather wet. As usual, I dropped on to the canal at Bridgman Street, and the rain ceased for a while and the the skies brightened. Near Pleck, I came upon this brood of ducklings, huddled together in the grass for warmth, their mother quacking reassuringly from the canal. They were quite tame, and I feel sure I could have reached out and picked one up. 

Further on, at Bentley Bridge, I noticed what can only be the sad remains of a Black Country Funeral, like a Viking one, but with less ambition. How unfortunate…

July 12th – Station to station on seemingly different days. I left for work this morning – again, I was in southeast Birmingham – in bright sunshine, with clear blue skies. I took my jumper off, enjoyed the breeze and the traffic. The view of the Bull Ring from Moor Street was particularly wonderful – so many architectural styles in one view. Sadly, on my return at 8:30pm, the day had turned nasty. Short heavy showers, separated by steady drizzle. Shenstone station looked as handsome as ever, but the weather was a real pain. Why do I seem to keep scaring summer off?

July 11th – After days of moaning about the rain, as I commuted home late this afternoon, the sun came out. This was so joyous to me that I cruised around the lanes of Shenstone for a while, dawning in the warmth, taking in the colours of nature around me. It had been an odd morning commute – I set out in purring rain, but got to the station in sunshine. I’ve been very down about the lack of summer in recent days, and the relentless grind of getting wet nearly every day has taken it’s toll on my mood. This ride, however, was restorative. Blue skies, light fluffy clouds and a gorgeous light. The wheat looked healthy, and the hedgerows and lane margins bristled with life. Excellent. 

July 10th – There’s no end to the rain and grey weather. The light was so poor all day that my photos were all drab, lifeless and depressing. I’m sorry about that, it’s just the conditions. However, it’s July and high summer, and I’m commuting in high viz, full waterproofs and with lights on in daytime. This can’t go on: we must get the sun back eventually. Stuff Chasewater for a week or two, I want to feel the sun on my back and the freedom of cycling in a teeshirt and shorts again.

July 9th – All I want is a day – one day – without rain. Sadly, it wasn’t to be. Returning from Birmingham, the train disgorged it’s charges unexpectedly at Four Oaks, so I cycled up the hill out of the suburb, and then cruised down to Little Aston. At Mill Green, it began; a soft rain fell steadily. Coming up the hill to Shire Oak, I was hot, sweaty and tired. Then I realised: It had stopped raining. 100 metres round the bend, the roads were bone dry and it hadn’t rained at all. 

The weather we’re having right now is crazy.

July 7th – It seems incredible, but Chasewater is slowly returning to normal. I don’t think Graham Evans, of Chasewater Wildlife Group, thought his rain dances would be so successful. The lake is now clearly at 1976 levels, so recovery to full capacity is possible by the end of next year – but only if it rains a hell of a lot. I noted that the pier now has its toes in the water, and the little beach at the north end of the dam won’t be too reminiscent of Weston Super Mare for much longer. Contributing to all this are the land drains, creeks and issues that feed the reservoir. A fine thing indeed, but I fear my feet are developing webs between the toes.

July 6th – It rained. Possibly not the biblical deluge forecasted, but my, did it rain. I braved the start of the storm in the morning, and it rained steadily all day in Birmingham, where I was working. Leaving at 5pm it was still pouring, the short, soggy dash to the station I considered a foretaste of a grim journey home.

The weather surprised me, though. I got to Walsall and the rain was stopping. After a short hop to Caldmore, the skies cleared, and blue sky was in full effect at Shelfield as I passed through. Stopping at the Arboretum Junction, however, I was shocked at the amount of surface water still present. Is it the surface, or what? Mystifying.