Tag: sad

August 5th – A day when I wasn’t feeling great. People I love are leaving for long holidays, which will make my personal life unusually quiet for a few weeks, and I had a dreadful migraine that disturbed my vision and made it impossible to read or concentrate.

I went out late to do some shopping, and spun out to Chasewater along the canal. The day had been squally, but right now there were blue skies and sun, and I admired the fields of wheat running across Home Farm to Sandhills. I guess these will be harvested soon as the adjacent oilseed rape has been, and the cycle resets for another year.

Today, I felt sad, but the sun and air did me good. But inside, the weeks of quiet to come were making me down.

August 3rd – I’m amazed at the general variety between types of rosehips. I mentioned these sweet fruit of the rosebush on here a few days ago, and noticed today they were  developing at a fair pace now. They range from thin, almost yellow and small, to bright red, akin to a radish, like the one above, which is actually quite large. 

It’s interesting as there seems less variety in wild rose flowers than there seems to be in the seed fruit.

At this time in late summer they make for a welcome splash of colour, and will continue to be so until late autumn. A beautiful but slightly sad reminder that the season’s wheel continues to roll forward whether we like it or not.

July 28th – A sunny morning, but dreadfully wet return from work made for an odd day. I’m increasingly aware now of summer and time marching on and this shows in the shift from flowering to fruiting.

The apples near the scrapyard at Bentley Bridge are looking wonderful again this year. Such a shame nobody can get close enough to pick them!

Looks like it’ll be another fruitful autumn…

July 26th – Passing through Stonnall on my way home, I noted the harvest has started, presumably to beat that morning’s rain, but it’s a sobering sight.

Near Lower Stonnall, the oilseed rape has been cut, the fields looking ragged and desolate, covered in the stalks, pods and shredded chaff that the harvester blows out after flailing out the precious black seeds.

Perhaps more strikingly, the field adjacent has already been harvested and ploughed over for the next crop. 

It feels uncomfortably like Autumn’s breath is on my shoulder…

July 2nd – Out on a long ride I was sad to note that the Meynell Ingram Arms in Hoar Cross – refurbished at huge cost after a previous closure – is still empty and gently decaying.

I thought it had closed relatively recently, but it closed without explanation in 2014, and has been vacant ever since. The last refurbishment was extensive, and must have cost a lot: outdoor ‘dining pods’ and other gimmicks apparently failed to pull the punters when perhaps more concentration on service and quality would have been more beneficial. A look at Tripadvisor is informative.

The establishment has had a chequered history and it’s current ownership and any plans for it are unknown.

This is a lovely country pub in a beautiful valley that would make an ideal real ale house with decent, basic food, and it’s so sad it can’t find an owner who loves it.

A real shame.

May 6th – Only a short run around Brownhills and over to Chasewater as it was, not to put too finer point on it, bloody cold and grey, the day being more akin to February than May. I was cheered however, by the cats I met at Catshill Junction. 

These canalside kitties were at opposite ends of the age spectrum, and whilst the black and white one was a dashing, well-maintained cat about town who was all to ready to stop for a fuss, the old tabby with the mangled ear and sad eyes was telling a tale of great experience and no little fighting. 

Both lovely animals in their own way. That’s what I love about cats and dogs; one can almost identify with their personalities, tribulations and lives.

May 4th – In the past couple of days I’ve mused on the sudden explosion in the number of herons on the local canals around Walsall, and also noted the amount of fresh waterfowl hatchlings.

In one journey from Walsall to Darlaston this morning, I saw four lurking herons. But only one coot chick.

It was lunchtime before the connection struck me. The herons are finding food in the tiny new lives that have been nurtured in canalside nests in the last few days and weeks.

I can’t grumble – the herons are doing what herons do, and the reason many clutches are so large or certain species are prolific breeders is precisely because of the attrition of new generations by predators.

But it’s a grizzly thought. These very attentive coot parents were very attentive of their offspring – only 10 metres of so from a patient, waiting heron.

April 21st – I was still doing short test runs come sundown, when passing the site of Sid Cohen’s transport cafe on Shire Oak Hill I noticed I’d just missed a beautiful sky. I’m always sad when that happens, as you never really know when you’ll get a good sunset again.

It was very cold and whilst spring this year is sunny, bright and dry, I’m getting fed up of the cold and distinctly harsh winds. As soon as the sun goes in it’s bitterly cold.

It’s like the season’s been delivered, but a vital component to put it all together is missing…

April 19th – A tired commute and weary day at work as a result of the exertions of the previous day, and I had the camera stuck on some poncey ‘artistic’ mode so all the photos came out unusable, except this one: Passing the former Boat pub at Bentley Bridge, Darlaston green, I noted it was finally razed.

The demolition has been long and protracted as contractors stripped carefully anything of worth from the decaying building.

Good to see such care taken to reclaim the materials, but the overwhelming feeling of sadness at the loss of a one popular pub remains.

A small, encapsulated tragedy and tale for our times.

March 13th – I headed for work feeling otherworldly and not really well at all. Nothing specific, but I was very tired, and I felt light headed, and not really there. On the way, the only thing that really broke my mood was the profusion of daffodils, which seem really early this year (but I don’t think they are).

I booked an appointment with the doctor for later in the week, and got to see a medical friend in the meantime.She told me I’d got low blood sugar and a previous medical issue was most likely playing up again, it would seem.

Sometimes it’s just nice to know you’re not losing the plot, and you really are unwell. Because once you know you’re not well, you know you’ll get better.