June 12th – Whilst I like the flexibility of the Sony HX90, the photos so far have left me underwhelmed. They’re not bad, they just seem to lack a bit of zing: but then, the light yesterday was very very poor on my way home, and perhaps I’m not being fair to it.
I had business in Aldridge, so hopped on the canal there and rode back along the dreaming green waterway in a curious, tense stillness that seemed to be flexing its muscles for a storm.
The storm never came.
May 19th – Most of the day, the weather was dynamic. Sun, rain, wind, hail, sun… but even in the sun, it still looked black over Bill’s Mothers. The coos knew what they were doing.
I got soaked three times. But the rain passed as quickly as it came and it wasn’t cold.
May. It rages and it roars and it blows; but usually, it creeps out on tiptoe, spent from all the tantrums.
April 12th – I didn’t make it home before the storm broke.
There was quite a degree of precipitation. The geese didn’t seem too bothered, though…
March 31st – A dreadful day to commute, although you’d never tell from the photos. It was very, very windy all day, with strong gusts that felt very threatening. I cycled to and from work in sun, overcast grey, rain and hail. The weather didn’t stay the same for five minutes. Talk about four seasons in one day.
Still, the young heron by the canal at Clayhanger was an unexpected treat. Hopefully, the wind will die down tomorrow and the weather may settle a little.
March 30th – The delightful spring day evaporated late afternoon, and the wind and rain drove me home.
Oh my days, it was grim. To quote @thestymaster, ‘Wetter than an otter’s pocket.’
Some days, you just count getting home at all as a victory.
Monday 13th – A horrid commute, in both directions. Autumn is sitting heavily on my shoulders at the moment; the nights are closing in, and the rainy days more and more frequent.
But then, what should I expect? Half way through October. Just where has this year gone?
September 29th – I’d nipped into Birmingham on what seemed like a reasonable afternoon, then got the train back to Walsall. As I got nearer, the skies darkened more and more. It didn’t look good.
I emerged from the station about 6pm, and it was like dusk, with almost biblically ominous conditions.
I got as far as Rushall when the heavens opened, but it didn’t last long. It’s been the driest September on record here, and the rain was refreshing, and all too short-lived.
April 25th – Riding in the rain when the weather is warm isn’t that bad – once you’re wet, you’re wet and with waterproofs, that takes a good while. But after a week at work, when you’re tired, the light is poor and the traffic relentless, you just want to get home, have a shower, put something fresh on and have a decent cup of tea.
These bike cam stills give a flavour of the journey. Like riding at night, it’s mentally very demanding, as there’s more stuff that you have to mentally process, and the traffic tends to be mad.
I was glad, If I’m honest, to get home.
April 20th – For an evening spin, it was pleasant enough; the wind was grim, but at least I’d fixed the problem with my gears. At Chasewater, the sunset was nice, but unremarkable, and I was surprised at how tiny the gull roos was. I could hear an owl calling near the dame, but I couldn’t see it. On the way back home, the sky darkened, and it looked very, very black over Bill’s mother’s.
Luckily, I just got home and got the bike in as the heavens opened… I do hope that nice spell wasn’t summer.
April 17th – The minutiae of drainage engineering are wonderful. I’ve been passing this array of manholes for a couple of weeks now, and noticed that new bars had been installed across the covers. It’s taken me ages to work out what they’re for. It’s not what one may imagine.
Opposite a small, automatic sewer pumping station on Green Lane at Bullings Heath, Walsall Wood, there is the concrete cap to what must be a storm buffer. A storm buffer is a large underground tank that, in time of heavy rainfall, collects drainage water and fills up, storing it and allowing slower discharge into the main network to prevent overload. There are lots around and they work well; you can tell this is one due to the large circular ‘cap’ evident with the access covers.
Recently, bars were mounted over the covers. Initially, I assumed they were to prevent access by drainers – a type of Urban Explorer that goes into sewers and storm drains to explore – but they aren’t actually secure. They’re secured with normal nuts and bolts, not locks. A couple of covers in front (not shown), which I think house pumps of valves – are not so protected.
They have actually been fitted to prevent internal pressure from blowing the access covers out. If the buffer filled to capacity due to a storm event, water pressure would increase against the hatches, and lift them out. That would then expose anyone walking through the subsequent flood liable to fall into a very deep, open manhole.
The bars are therefore a safety feature.
I wonder what has occurred, and where, to make this risk suddenly appreciated?
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