Tag: wet

November 23rd – A run out on errands late morning was shrouded in grey, overcast damp. I swung out to Pelsall, then back over to Coppice Side and up to Chasewater, Ogley and back to the supermarket. It was a thoroughly grey, uninspiring and lifeless day.

I cut up the cycleway from Apex Road, over the old cement works bridge up to Engine Lane. I was pleased to note the cycleway here has been opened back out and the paths cleared – all by a Community Payback team, who were working cutting the scrub back today.

That pleased me, and makes riding down here a whole bunch nicer. Thanks, folks. Looking good!

November 17th – Ah, that Late Night Feelings thing again. I found myself at Walsall Station, in the early evening – not as a passenger but waiting for one, helping a beginner commuter by travelling together in the evening Walsall traffic.

I love the lights of this station at night. It started raining soon after, and made for a wet, hard commute come. Not a good start for a beginner…

November 16th – A grim ride, mostly in rain, up to Chasewater and back round by Brownhills Common. It wasn’t cold, but the light was atrocious and it didn’t feel great to be out to be honest. Some great views at Chasewater, though, with that wonderful colour from yesterday. I see the grebes are in winter plumage now, and the waterline on Jeffrey’s Swag and the North Shore could have been Penmaen.

Mr. Whiskers was the first cat I’ve ever seen on the north shore. He did’t seem to be lost. 

Back in Brownhills, a lone cygnet made the canal view complete, and winter marigolds guerrilla planted by Becks Bridge on the Pelsall Road  raised a smile.

Hope the weather improves soon.

November 15th – By rights, I should have felt miserable. At work early in the morning, still dog tired and sleep deprived on a dreadfully damp, murky day. But I headed over to Pelsall to catch up with a friend mid afternoon, and the colours in the grey mist were actually brilliant. There was an eerie, otherworldly quality to Green and Mob lanes, still in their autumnal jackets; on my return via Ryders Mere and the old railway, the marsh was ghostly, silent and deserted. 

An unexpectedly good ride on what would otherwise have been a horrid day for it. You never can tell.

November 14th – After a late night, an very early start riding into the wind in horrendous rain. It was probably the worst ride for years. The waterproofs kept me mostly dry, but I arrived drained and down in the dumps.

Out and about popping to the cafe in the morning after the rain stopped, it was nice to see the last remnants of autumn hanging on – bright red, rain-glossed berries and beautiful yellow oak leaves cheered me no end; as did the smell of wet, fresh earth, making a pleasant change from the normal metallic scent of the Black Country.

After a good butty and a bit of space, the day improved.

October 17th – The morning commute was damp, and a little drizzly, but it brightened up as I neared work. On the way, I noted the assortment of hips, haws and berries, glistening with raindrops. For the hedgerow fruits, it’s been a bountiful year, and the birds certainly have plenty in the larder right now.

A fine autumn; best I can remember for many a year.

August 25th – One thing that is good about a wet ride is that it speeds up the bedding in of new brake pads. Last week I changed the ones on the front, and although greatly improved, that hadn’t yet reached best efficacy. A ride in the wet – with some nice hard stops from speed – works wonders, and the rain on the disc mingles with the metal dust from the disc and pads, forming a grinding paste that wears everything together quickly.

On my return, I swill out the brake calliper and disc with a hose.

The brakes are loads better now than they were before. I’ve never seen this documented anywhere, but seems to work a treat. 

August 1st – My return journey was weary, wet, grey and warm. Again, it felt like being in the gust from a hair-drier, so warm was the breeze. It was raining steadily, and having popped in to Brum, I returned from Shenstone down quiet, greasy country lanes, dodging a whole host of slippery hazards in waiting, now hydrated. 

I note most of the harvest is done here, but for a couple of fields. In the UK, I guess it pays not to dither, and as I was waiting at Shire Oak I reflected on the wonderful unreliability of the great British weather.

July 31t – I had something to go to in the evening, and returned late. I returned after dark, and it was beautiful, as late summer nights tend to be; it had rained briefly in the afternoon and the damp had drawn out the frogs, toads and gastropods in huge numbers.

This delightful pair were within six inches of each other on the grass by the canal at Silver Street. 

Some people find these creatures of the night slimy and unpleasant; I think they’re beautiful, in their own way.