September 28th – By chance, on my return journey. I came upon this group of cyclists in Birmingham city centre. From twitter conversations, I realised they were a bunch of Birmingham City Councillors, who were on a guided ride of the city to experience what it’s like for cyclists. Interestingly, there were no Tories present.
It’s bloody lousy, we’ve been telling you for years, damn it…
September 28th – Other people’s bicycles. I’d been to the Cycle Show at the NEC. This involved a journey into Birmingham by bus – I hadn’t been on one for over 12 months, and hated it. Walking up Corporation Street from the University, I noticed this bike chained to the scaffolding. It’s a venerable old British Eagle, and someone loves it. Later, as I was leaving the show, I noticed this black fixie parked outside the entrance at the NEC. Sometimes the best bikes are the oldest, most loved ones.
September 27th – As I returned along the canal, something remarkable happened. A rainbow formed. In the distance over Hammerwich from the canal, the sky went from blue, to dark, to blue again, and then moved to form the most incredibly vivid rainbow. It lasted about ten minutes, long enough for me to wonder if there really was a pot of gold at Meerash Farm, but then, as quickly as it formed, it dissipated. It left one cyclist transfixed. Remarkably, all this occurred with no rain where I was. Sometimes, you’re just in the right place at the right time, and today, this was the case. I was privileged to see this. Nature, reminding us that it holds all the cards and will perform when she’s ready.
Perhaps autumn isn’t so bad after all.
September 27th – I’d been in Darlaston and escaped early. The skies were incredible late afternoon, and so I headed up to Chasewater, where I knew they’d be spectacular. I wasn’t wrong – they threatened a real storm, which never came. But in-between the rage-purple and black clouds, there were patches of azure blue. Photogenic weather, this is more like it.
September 26th – The poor weather continues. On my way to work, despite expecting a dry run, it rained; and also, on my return. I got the train to Lichfield, and did some shopping on my way back. The evening alternated between a searching, oddly penetrative drizzle and bright skies with a little hazy sunshine. Crossing Summerhill on the A461 Lichfield Road, I noticed the sunset was stunning. Lets have more of this, and less of the rain, please. Come on, weather, you’ve made your point…
September 26th – I’ve spent a lot of time in Tyseley lately, and I have an odd kind of love-hate relationship with the station. Tyseley, as Ive noted here before, is now a heavily industrialised area, and has a mixed air of quiet decay and frantic commerce. The station, with it’s GWR accoutrements and air of very faded splendour speaks of a time when this Birmingham suburb was more genteel and rail was king. Scruffy, rotting and largely unloved, the station sits like a drunken duchess, quiety getting drunk whilst dwelling on past glories in some last chance saloon. Willowherb and buddleia grow from gutters, walls and platforms; the roofs and canopies leak, and everything gives an air of decay. But somehow, I actually think I like the place.
25th September – It’s damned hard to find decent photos in the rain. Leaving Walsall, I noted that the surface water problem at the Arboretum junction is ongoing. For some reason, whatever they surfaced the new road with, it doesn’t drain well. There seems to be a permeant layer of water of the surface, and that can’t be safe. It’s notably confined to new sections of the road, and I’ve never quite seen this before. Most odd.
Approaching Brownhills, I passed the decaying husk of the Wheel Inn, the lost pub on the Lindon Road, Brownhills. I had hoped something would be done with the building after the fairground people bought the yard behind, but little has changed. Walsall Council have recently been making noises about forcing owners to sort out derelict eyesores: if, as I suspect, the building is owned by Pat Collins Fairs, then that particular enforcement notice would be interesting, to say the least…
September 24th – The bad evening predicated a bad morning; it was one of the worst commutes weather-wise I’d had for years. Thanks to a tipoff early on twitter by Aiden MacHaffie, I knew before I left that trains on the Cross City were shafted, and my journey would therefore have to start at Walsall. Heading to Tyseley in heavy rain, the usually assortment of bad weather bad drivers made themselves painfully evident. The trains were rammed, and by the time I found myself waiting at Moor Street, I was wet, chilly and down in the dumps. I don’t know so much about autumn, someone seems to have left the door open and winter wandered in. Ugh.
September 23rd – A foul afternoon. I popped over to a freind’s house to do some bike spannering, and it was raining hard. Brownhills was hardly photogenic… But passing St. James Church I noticed the lights were on and a service was In progress. St. James is a good example of recovered memory – for most of my adult life I’d have sworn it had a clock, that chimed. I’d have put money on it. It was only after photographing it for an article 2 years ago that I realised it had no such thing. What I’d actually been hearing on still, summer nights was the three faced liar on the old Council House.
September 22nd – Since we’re around the autumnal equinox, the sunsets get quite reasonable, just as they do at the spring one. Returning home through dark lanes, lights on full and feeling cold, this was my first taste of cold-season cycling. I find riding in the dark fun, challenging and mentally exhausting, and this ride more so, as I hadn’t done it for so long. But the sky was my companion, and it was beautiful. You’re never alone with a good sunset.
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