Galleries

20th November – Still clinging on, and looking handsome despite the decay, the mellow, early winter sunshine lit up the Workhouse Guardian’s Office beautifully. Derelict for some years, this listed building is marooned in front of the new Manor Hospital on Pleck Road in Walsall. 

I wish someone would find a suitable use and rejuvenate this lovely edifice; every detail of it is gorgeous from the stained glass windows to the beautifully ornate finial and weathervane. But such old buildings are expensive to renovate and convert, and in such an unusual physical position uses must be very limited indeed.

In the meantime, this Victorian wonder is being gently carried to dust, Havershambling away unloved, except by the few who see it’s beauty. I pray the arsonists don’t spot it.

November 19th – I forget every year how good Telford’s roadside verges are for fungi. On the backroads and industrial estates were people rarely walk, the mycology goes undisturbed, and a huge variety grow.

On a cold, dew-laden morning, a variety of Melanoleuca, a large family of toadstools which are beyond my ability to tell apart. I love the bleach-white gills, and the way they’ve split under their own weight.

November 18th – I tried an experiment tonight, but it didn’t work that well. 15 second exposures off a tripod of the canal at Clayhanger using a tripod. The old camera used to give really great results with this, but this one seems not be as good, if I’m honest.

These photos were taken in almost total darkness.

November 18th – Not all change is for the worse. Here at James Bridge, on the Walsall-Darlaston border, the road between the two crosses a river: the Tame, in it’s nascent stages. At Besot, a mile or so away, it’s in confluence with the Ford Brook, and becomes the major watercourse of Sandwell and North Birmingham.

This river used – even here – especially here – to be nothing but a foul conduit for industrial effluent; but the industry that discharged into it has either gone, or been forced to clean up it’s act, and the river now runs relatively clear.

Today, mallards drifted in the strong flow, basking in the hazy but warm morning sun. This was unthinkable even a decade ago.

I never thought I’d see this waterway clean.

November 16th – It’s been a while since my Brownhills deer magnet was last functioning, and I `haven’t seen the local ones for ages. As I came up Coppice Lane, they were in the scrub on the left side, on the fringes of the old clay pit and landfill.

About 6 or 8 females, they were quite skittish, and didn’t hang around for long. But it was good to se the girls. Shame the light wasn’t a bit better.

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.

November 13th – A miserable, headache-coloured commute to work found me at work on a rush job until very late; I returned on wet tarmac in light drizzle through somnambulant suburbs. I was exhausted.

Green lane felt desolate, and matched what I felt, and by the time I got to the top of the Black Cock Bridge, I barely had the energy to push on into Brownhills.

I love cycling late at night, but I did this run very much on autopilot…