September 11th – It was raining as I cycled home from Walsall, but for once, I didn’t mind. The wind was behind me, the air felt warm and the bike was moving easily. The events of the day were taking their toll and to my shame, I dismounted and pushed up the Black Cock Bridge. On the adjacent pedestrian bridge I liked the combination of rain, sodium light and metalwork.

The day was long, mentally I’d had a close call, but a weight was off my mind, and the promise of another day lightened my heart.

There’s tomorrow. There will always be a tomorrow.

June 28th – In stark contrast to the busy main lines of Leicester, the South Staffordshire line near Lichfield lies silent, mothballed, and slowly decaying. The last trains to trip this forlorn crossing at Fosseway, near Wall, would have been oil trains to the the long since gone Charringtons terminal at Anglesey Sidings. I wonder if these barriers will ever descend for passenger traffic again? A sad indication of the lack of transport vision in the country.