July 2nd – A ride out to Brockton, Milford and Tixall marred by mechanical problems, a headwind and tiredness, but a good trip all the same. Tixall is as beautifully incongruous as I remember, and the Chase was as gorgeous.
The waterfowl of Chasewater were also on good form as I passed through. I’m wondering just how much the swan numbers can increase to – gorgeous birds, but so many of them now. Interesting to watch.
May 9th – Pear blossom lasts but a few days, and you’re lucky to spot it really, but this thick crop of flowers, just going over and scattering like confetti on the strong breeze were profuse on the small pear tree by the new pond in Clayhanger.
Last year the tree fruited well, but with a late frost on the blossom, I’m not sure how well this tree will do this year.
Beautiful while it lasts, though.
April 25th – Awful commuting weather. On the way to work in the morning, I faced a grim wind and sharp, heavy shows. It was cold and I was missing waterproof trousers, so arrived at work damp and miserable. Similarly, on the way home I was caught in heavy rain, but this time there was a severe headwind. And between the squalls? Flashes of bright sunshine and dark, threatening skies.
April has proven a real challenge this year.
April 5th – A bad day for commuting, really; soaked with a headwind on the way to work, and shot blasted by hail and caught in a short, sharp shower on the way home. But at least by then, the wind was behind me.
The rain on my return was broken by periods of bright sunshine which although directly warm on the back, couldn’t counter the strong, bitter wind; but we did get a rainbow. Almost Imperceptible to the northeast, but stronger over the darker cloud to the southeast it was beautiful – and a good while since I saw one.
Talk about four seasons in one day…
March 14th – A horrid return journey into an easterly wind was cold, protracted and unpleasant. I took a breather on Catshill Junction Bridge to catch my breath before heading into Brownhills. Only just dark, tonight it was shades of dark blue following a dull, overcast day.
I love this spot. It’s changed so much in the past 20 years or so.
March 5th – I met these two interesting characters whilst returning in the morning from a trip into Walsall on an errand. I had planned to go to the annual bike jumble at Eddington, but my health was still not great and the weather – windy, with periodic showers – was so damned unpleasant, I just couldn’t be doing with it. Which is sad, but we usually get a better day for it.
Tacking into the wind, I decided to try the cycleway down the Goscote Valley on the way back, which was a bit of a mistake. Nipping down Cartridge lane to join the cycleway, both the donkey and horse were stood by the fence, so I said hello. The donkey was grumpy and walked away, but the horse happily had his nose stroked and seems sad when I made to go.
That donkey is a lovely animal, but I don’t think it likes me very much!
February 21st – Another grim, grey and periodically wet day that had started reasonably well, but by the time I was able to escape, had descended into grey intemperance. I headed out to Chasewater and found the water level still rising, but the place was largely deserted and the lake very choppy indeed. This place was hostile today.
The only bright thing here was the gorse, which is strongly in flower all around the park. Such vivid, bright yellow. A real joy.
February 20th – A foul, grey and wet day hemmed me in and I only left the house to get some shopping in. While out, I looped up the canal and back to town; it was dark, desolate and windy and I found the experience particularly joyless.
I did find cheer, however, in the bike on the back of the narrowboat moored at Siler Street, which seemed made to measure to fit in place, and for the waterside grotto at the back of the houses on Lindon Drive which seemed like the ideal place to chill out on a more temperate evening.
A lot of thought has clearly gone into that little sanctuary.
February 8th – That all-pervasive sense of a world heading off home quickly was present in the Civic Quarter, too. Even the pub smokers, normally hanging around in small huddles here, were absent.
It just made the street scene here look beautiful.
February 8th – This was supposed to be a photo of the statue of Sister Dorothy Pattison, heroine of Walsall and a great personal hero of mine, moodily lit in a windswept town at closing time.
On that score it failed miserably. The old girl is out of focus, and the light doesn’t do her justice at all, which is sad. She was the mother of modern healthcare in Walsall and gave her heart, soul and life to caring for the Victorian sick, injured and infirm.
It does, however, show the atmosphere on The Bridge as I passed through. I’d had a dreadful commute again – driving rain and a headwind ion the way in that morning, and on the way back, the tailwind, although decent, wasn’t the engine-substitute I’d laboured against earlier.
A nasty gale was whipping up though, and there was a sense of increasing desertion and of collar-up, head down scurrying home.
It was fascinating and I wish I’d hung around a bit longer.
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