November 7th – Coming up from the Black Country, back to Walsall – at this time of year, Junction 9 is the safest route, as the traffic volume makes negotiation of the junctions easier.
Music is ‘Snapshot’ by the Art of Noise.
April 1st – it’s fitting to note that today, April 1st 2016, April Fools Day is the 5th anniversary of this journal. Apart from the two infamous days of food poisoning over New Year 2011/12 when I was slain by a rogue pie, I have ridden every day, rain, sun, snow or shine. Every day I’ve got on my bike and gone somewhere – for a ride for pleasure, on errands, to work. That’s 1825 days of cycling, and 4 years and 3 months of that on every single consecutive day.
I must be mad. Or really love cycling. One of the two. Or both.
Today, I found myself riding through Stonnall, and noticed the lovely daffodils around the village bus stop. Wonder what the bunting around the shelter is for?
Thanks for being with me and riding along. If you’re sick of it and think I should stop, or want to shout encouragement, feel free. I’ve really enjoyed the past five years.
December 30th – As I noted ten days ago, the sunset was now advancing from it’s nadir of 3:53pm. Since then the figure – top right on the bike computer screen – has advanced to 4pm. We are winning the battle, the darkness is in regret – we’ve gained seven minutes, and the gains now will only increase. A reason to be cheerful.
I noticed yesterday in Chepstow the sunset was as late as 4:07pm. Maybe I should move south for the winter, like some of the birds…
Note one unchanged thing, though: The device is still spattered with raindrops.
September 11th – Then there was Staffordshire itself: just trying on it’s autumn coat, it was beautifully languid, with surprisingly vivid colour. The church at Newborough remains stunning, but oh, how red were those apples?
A great 60 miler on quiet roads and backlanes it what must surely be this summer’s last breath.
June 14th – I wanted to visit Newborough to see that elegant, French-inspired Church I’d photographed across the valley the week before. This time, I went from Lichfield, up the east side of the Trent to Walton, over to Barton, and on to Tutbury. From there, Fauld, Draycott and Newborough, before returning via Far Hoar Cross, Woodmill, Yoxall and Lichfield. About 55 miles in all.
There was a punishing headwind on the way to Tutbury, but having the wind behind me on the way back was a boon.
The church with that remarkable needle spire – All Saints – was by Oldrid Scott in 1901, and stands on the site of an old pub. It’s a remarkable building. Striking, imposing, and probably the most expressive of Scott’s churches.
It’s nice to see that Newborough – in the floor of a beautiful, quiet valley – is still busy enough to retain a pub and tea shop. It’s a lovely, virtually unknown village.
Stafforshire is a remarkable county.
June 12th – Just found this from a few weeks ago.
Riding out of the Galton Valley canal cutting in one go up on to Galton Bridge. Real time, no stopping.
For a tubby old bloke, I still have me moments.
Music ‘Forest Dance’ by Jethro Tull.
May 15th – Springtime canal cycling. I got 99 problems, and most of them are truculent, obstructive and aggressive geese.
Patience and gentle coaxing a must.
April 3rd – It’s Good Friday. You’re going home, mid afternoon. It’s raining, you’re wet and you just want out of here.
The trafic is awful and backing up. It’s time to just go for it and get the hell out.
March 27th – Another afternoon escape, and I hit the canal again, up to Wolverhampton for a meeting, down to Coseley and round the old line through Tipton, Dudley Port and Oldbury, back up to Toll End, then up the Tame Valley to Rushall Junction, and back home. A pleasant 45 miles, in decent conditions, but the towpaths are still very muddy and heavy going.
I nipped to the shops in Wednesfield for a snack, and the primroses around the church there are a stunning sight – it really is quite a lovely High Street they have there.
November 11th – Riding along the Darlaston Road in Pleck, Walsall at about 5:30pm, towards Walsall. I’m on the left as I’m hauling uphill and the banjo in the taxi overtakes me and turns left, not too far from wiping me out.
Fortunately, he hesitated, and I saw what he was going to do, so I drifted to the left as he pressed towards me. Long time since I shouted at a driver.
This was not a case of not seeing me. He saw me, he went for it. Thankfully, I have my wits about me.
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