Tag: sad

September 9th – In Aston, a sad sight; a pub that I once frequented regularly has closed. Beautiful in that hideously overblown way only Birmingham terracotta pubs can be, the Swan and Mitre on the corner of Holborn Hill was never salubrious, but it was a good boozer that contains many happy memories.

It’s a genuinely astounding building, but sadly the reputation this place carried and decline of nearby industry signed it’s death warrant many years ago. 

Like the Brittania, nearby (now converted into a cafe) there seems little place in modern suburban Birmingham for the huge alehouses of yore, which is a great pity.

Never again will I lean on the railings outside on a warm evening, pint in hand, watching the world go by. But then, those days passed a long, long time ago, and the faces that filled those memories have moved on, slipped away or faded out of mind. 

Except one.

I just hope the building can be repurposed.

September 6th – The breath of autumn on my shoulder, as the song says. Cycling along the canal in Place on a beautiful, sunny day, it’s hard not to notice the subtly changing colours, the slight chill in the air, and the first few fallen leaves.

Technically we’re still in summer, but Autumn is now limbering up. I find this time of year so hard.

Ah well, nothing to do but ride on…

September 1st – As I arrived home in darkness, I caught sight of a critical milestone on the bike computer: Sunset was now taking place before 8pm. From now until November, the darkest will positively gallop onwards, and summer, with it’s warm and light evenings will just be another memory of a season passed.

How I hate the encroaching darkness.

August 29th – Not a fan of August Bank Holiday. The day off is nice, but it always feels like I should make more of it than I do, this Monday always feels like summer’s last breath, from here on autumn, cold, dark etc.

Of course, it’s rarely that – we will have more warm and fine weather before the darkness returns but I find this milestone sombre and sad.

It also reminds me of all the plans I had for the summer that never got done.

Today I was tired, having trouble with my hips, and recovering; so I stayed home, and did jobs on the bike and enjoyed the company of family. A short dusk spin up to Chasewater and back along the canal was enjoyable on a freshly tuned, fast bike, and painkillers had shown my aches the door.

It hadn’t been a bad day. The weather was good. Much needed jobs were done. And there are still fine, warm days to come,

August 4th – Bitterweet to see the rosehips now ripening well along the lanes and towpaths of the Black Country. They are beautiful in their shiny, vivid orange jackets, their sight brightens many a ride in late summer and autumn. But they also indicate the passage of time and season, and their appearance always makes me a little sad for a summer passing.

There’s plenty of time, though for summer to improve, and while there are still blooms alongside the hips, all is not lost yet.

April 20th – I was rolling down a back street in Birchills, Walsall when I spotted this fellow in the road. Outwardly in rude health, but clearly dazed, I think he’d had glancing contact with a vehicle and was stunned. I took his photo – chaffinches a re glorious, beautiful wee birds – then gently picked him up, checked him over and popped him in a nearby hedge to hopefully recover.

Wonderful to get so close to such a beautiful bird, but sad the circumstances in which it occurred. Hope he was OK. I think I probably saved him from being squished if nothing else.

March 29th – It never rains but it pours. After a period of quite grim ill health, things became a bit more complicated over Easter, and I’m beginning to wonder if life will ever return to normal. But of course, it will – it always does.

So it was into a wet, post-rain landscape that I slipped out into at dusk after a chaotic, frenetic day. Nothing was working, I was in some discomfort and I was exhausted. I was heading for Chasewater, and had looped up through Catshill Junction along saturated towpaths. In fading light, cold and with wet legs I decided to cut the expedition off at Chase Road and head back for Brownhills.

Some days you’re glad just to make it through in one piece.

February 15th – Spotted by the bridge in Victoria Park, Darlaston: the sadness of things. This huge teddy must have been very much loved once. Sodden with rain and looking dejected, he’s been moving around the park for a week or two. He looked particularly miserable today, he wasn’t even in the sun where he could dry out.

Few things are more melancholy than an abandoned toy.

January 13th – I was grumbling uphill in Bradford Street, Walsall, and a piece of fresh graffiti art caught my eye. In light of the recent grumbles I’ve been having about the weather, it seemed like a message from fate.

In the last couple of days I had a message from a good friend and reader of this journal ‘Stop moaning about the rain!’

I shall try, promise. There’s always hope, after all.