July 19th – The rains didn’t stay way for long. I was working from home, drowning under a shedload of paperwork. Late afternoon, I popped out to get some shopping in. As I left, the soft drizzle that had been falling turned into a downpour.
There are few places greyer than Brownhills when it rains. I’m currently wondering whether it’s worth having my whole body waterproofed, like you can with tents…
June 3rd – The weather was atrocious today. It rained solidly for most of the day. Finally hauling myself out in heavy waterproofs late evening, I took a spin round Brownhills and noticed that Laburnum Cottage was now empty. This building, stood prominently on the junction of New Road and High Street, was built in 1871 and has served a variety of purposes, it’s last being as a print shop, which it had been for at least three decades. The long lost – and much missed – local free sheet, ‘The Brownhills Gazette’ was produced here in the late 80s and early 90s by Brian Stringer.
I note now that the building is empty, with all signage and even the advertising hoarding on the side removed. There’s no planning applications outstanding, so it’s fate remains a mystery. At 141 years old, I hope the building is accorded the respect it deserves in any future use.
April 29th – Late evening, then rain ceased and the skies brightened, so I ventured out. In a damp, oddly-idiot strewn ride down the High Street, I realised that, due to relatively light traffic, I was recording the water features by Knaves Court and Morris Miner, and a good few of the serious potholes in-between – some of which have been there so long that they’ve evolved their own weather systems. It’d be really, really nice if we could get some of this stuff fixed for a change.
Apologies for the singing disc brake: I’m bedding in new pads.
April 25th – April is certainly the cruellest month of 2012 so far. Maybe I just got used to life in the dry, but commuting this week has had it’s difficult moments. I headed to Lichfield at dawn in a rainstorm, wrenching myself up the A461 against a merciless headwind. Making the train just in time, the inclement weather seemed to follow me to Leicester, where it hung around menacingly outside, like some school bully waiting to beat me anew on the way home. Fortunately, the trip home wasn’t so bad, just drizzle, really. But whatI did notice was the trees: clearly thirsty, there has been a sudden explosion in foliage and blossom. It’s an ill wind, and all that.
January 27th – It was my turn to leave early. Relishing the chance to get a commute home in the light, I left work at 4:15pm, not realising it was raining. Again stupidly finding myself without waterproof trousers, I made my sodden way home. The roads were mad, as they usually are when it rains, so I dived onto the canal in Pleck and flipped over to National Cycle Route 5 in Goscote. The rain cleared up by the time I got to Reedswood, but I was wet and chilly. Ah, the best laid plans…
December 30th – Something wasn’t right. The weather had been appalling all day. I’d hidden indoors, and I’d been busying myself with a few other projects. As I pottered around, I felt increasingly unwell. Finally dragging myself out of the house at 8:30pm, it was very black, rainy and miserable. I was not on top form. Every pedal revolution felt like it was draining the strength from my body. I forgot my Gorillapod. I never do that.
After a loop around Brownhills, Clayhanger and Walsall Wood, I returned home, still feeling unwell. Later in the evening, I went out to the pub. I sat there for an hour with a good friend, shivering and feeling rotten, and found myself almost unable to walk home. Something was very, very wrong with me.
December 16th – I’d been looking forward to a snowy, wintry commute. The weather forecasts had been for a cold morning with maybe a settling of snow, but it was not to be. Sadly for me, I was sold short and have never quite been so disappointed to find myself cycling on a bright, sunny and temperate morning. Here at Darlaston Green, the sun caught the wet town and made it beautiful. Yet another example of why I love Darlaston so much. Ah well, the snow can wait…
November 3rd – Another early start, and a deserted Shenstone station at 6:15am. I was lucky today; the forecast was for heavy rain, but it had passed when I hit the road. It was also unseasonably warm. Approaching the station from Lynn Lane, I surveyed the platforms from the over bridge, as I often do. I love this station. It’s like a little period piece. Even at 6:15am on a dark, wet November morning.
July 13th – one of the unexpected hazards of a warm summer day is the crop jet positioned close to a roadside hedge. This one at Chesterfield, near Shenstone is quite powerful and could drench you thoroughly in passing. On a hot summer day in shorts and tee shirt this would be a delight; returning from work in jeans and with a laptop on the back not so much. Timing the passage is oddly difficult, as the mechanism will randomly jump about 100 degrees for no apparent reason. I think they’re designed to do that specifically to drench the unwitting.
It certainly adds an unexpected terror to rural rides. Bet Cobbet never had this problem.
May 23rd – An awful day to cycle – blustery, then rainstorms in the afternoon. I left work early for a meeting in Rushall, and dropped on to the canal at Pleck, south Walsall. I prefer the canal in this weather as traffic tends to be a bit mad in heavy rain. Cycling in the rain can be a lovely, sensual experience, and this was no exception, climbing the locks and bridges through Birchills and acing the traffic queue at Rushall was a joy…
The soundtrack is ‘Nice Weather for Ducks’ by the wonderful Lemon Jelly.
BrownhillsBob's #365daysofbiking 