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October 14th – I hopped on to the canal on my way back, and as the sky cleared, dusk fell. It was beautiful, in a quite understated way. I love the canal overflow at Clayhanger Bridge. I adore watching the flow of the water; powerful, noisy, yet soothing. Flowing strongly after a weekend of rain, I listened to it for ages. When you’ve been feeling under it for a while, simple things like listening to the rush whilst watching a decent sunset form can really pick you up.

I cycled homewards lifted.

October 13th – After the rain had passed. It’s been a grim weekend, really; the weather has been atrocious, and I’ve not got any miles in to speak of, but I also felt flat. I’ve been pretty low now for a few days, and I guess it’s the comedown after a good summer. I’m not feeling the cold, but I’m feeling the loss of light desperately. I’d made plans for a ride or two this weekend, and not even entertained the possibility that the weather might prevent it. I suppose I got out of the habit. That’s what a good summer does.

Today, I spent the day getting things done I’ve been meaning to for a while, writing and reading. The rain more or less cleared by 6pm, so I went for a silent spin around Clayhanger, the old railway line and the canal, before doubling back through Brownhills. Other than the odd passing vehicle I didn’t see a soul, and it was warm and peaceful. Everywhere was drenched, and the world felt oddly silenced, like it was tired, or just fed up of the rain and now glad it stopped.

I know how it feels. Autumn is always really, really tough for me, but this one is really getting me down. It’s like sand in my gears, I feel it eroding me.

October 12th – It’s quite hard to take photos on such a rainy day. You find all the good pictures are facing the rainfall, and because the light is poor, you need long exposures, usually resulting in the lens gathering raindrops. I stopped on the Pier Street Bridge to check out the golden streetlight on the canal surface, and managed to keep the lens dry enough to capture the narrowboats in their moorings. Spinning round and interested in the combination of light, wet surface and steelwork, I didn’t realise I had gathered the raindrops. But they worked out quite well, really.

October 12th – Lower than a snake’s knees. I had a mountain of other work to do, the rain was pouring most of the day and the autumn blues were really biting. I couldn’t get it on to write, or get myself organised. It’s fair to say I was as miserable as sin.

I went out as dark fell early, and shot up the canal to Chasewater in heavy rain. I blasted through puddles and threw the bike round corners and inclines to try to get my mojo back. It worked, for a fashion. 

I noticed at Newtown near the A5 that the anti-vehicle gate – swinging unlocked for the past 6 or 7 years – has been wired shut with barbed wire by someone. This is not good – folk in mobility scooters do come down here and the gates are supposed to be locked with RADAR keys. I’ve never really been sure what purpose this one serves, anyway, as it doesn’t prevent motorbike access from either of the adjacent bridges. 

I’m a bit concerned about this.

October 11th – One of the odder fruits of autumn is beech mast. Beech nuts have a pleasant flavour if chewed, with a green, dark and astringent taste; they grow in a prickly, hard rough burr husk that falls from the tree after opening. Since a mature beech is of a considerable size, the mast litter under such a tree is often deep, and has a distinct crackle when you walk or ride over it.

There isn’t a hint of moisture in the husks, which are hard, and they put one in mind of something prehistoric, perhaps the scales of some long-extinct dinosaur.

This example, along with several others is growing along the Lichfield Road at Sandhills. They are lovely trees.

October 11th – I was in Telford for the day, and a commute that started in bright sunshine ended in steady rain at my destination. I noticed as I stood on the covered walkway waiting for the rain to pass that the northbound platform was lined with a tree with bright, orangey red berries, yet leaves a bit like those on a cherry tree. I have no idea what this is, and the birds don’t seem to be very interested, either.

It put me in mind of cotoneaster, but the leaves and berries are way too big.

Anyone help me out here, please?

October 10th – Back in Walsall, I realised I was wrong; there is something awfully special about Walsall at night, too, but for deferent reasons. In Birmingham, It’s about the rush dying down, about the custom changing, about the shift from daytime economy to night time. In Walsall, it’s about empty, stone empty urban space. Places that in the daylight one doesn’t notice, or care about, but in the sodium light make a different, slightly threatening world.

October 10th – In Birmingham late, and the autumn has brought the night back, actually with some shock to me at the time. I emerged from a function to find the city at its very best; light, hard surfaces, wet paving and exaggerated perspective. I only had minutes until my train left, and grabbed quick shots around the Cathedral area. My train turned out to be late, so taking my life in my hands, I took some on the platforms of a darkened New Street Station, where a combination of ongoing construction and desertion make the environment fascinating.

I love playing with photography at night, and there’s no better place than at the city sliding into its own wonderful nocturne.

October 9th – A casual observer might think I had a downer on the project to renovate and upgrade New Street Station in Birmingham. I haven’t particularly, but in my opinion the design leaves much to be desired, both functionally and aesthetically. A good example of the aesthetic horror of the design is the polished stainless steel cladding being erected on the Stephenson Place facade. Unsealed, and hanging from girder work erected on the surface of the old Pallisades centre, again, it stinks of bodge and bad taste. The mirror surface looks tatty to me; adjacent sheets  don’t always meet perfectly and where the sheets are pinned, the surface is often distorted and looks dented and cheap. 

Compared to the iconic and stunning Selfridges building, this looks like something dreamt up on a bad Saturday in the pub by a crazed Meccano fan. I dread to think what the rest of it will look like when complete…

October 9th – There must be a good return on parsnips. I watched this mystery crop grow at Home Farm, Sandhills, from polythene covered strip mounds to lush, verdant foliage, from which readers identified the then mysterious crop. Harvesting has been ongoing for a week or two now – not everyday, but I imagine as often as demand occurs. Workers appear to sit in the shed-like trailer picking the root veg by hand, and tossing them onto a conveyor. Debris in one spot shows the crop was large and in good condition.

Don’t think I’ve ever seen parsnips grown in large quantities before. It’s certainly labour intensive to pick them.