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April 7th – As is customary when you buy a new camera, one of two things happens. It’s either dull and overcast for days afterwards, rendering all your handiwork and testing grey and horrid, or you take hundreds of pics not having spotted the packaging fluff on the lens wrecking every image. I think this time, we’re settling for the ‘dull’ option. I set out yesterday lunchtime with a heavy heart; it was drizzling steadily and Brownhills looked dark and moody. 

I was cheered, however, by Mrs. Swan, who was still sitting intently in her impressive nest at the canal bank at the rear of Saddler Road. She’s had a couple of dry runs in previous years, but I think this could be her first clutch. She seems to be shuffling a lot, and quite concerned for what’s beneath her. In previous years, pairs of swans here have had broods as great as ten. I feel unusually gripped by this… it’ll be interesting to see how the couple do this year. At least the nest this time is well out of reach of foxes and rats.

April 6th – Back on the canal at Rushall Junction, going up the Rushall Extension through Park Hall, the wildlife seems to be about again. I think this is my first heron photo this year, and he was a bit jumpy, to be frank. There don’t seem to be many of these about on the canals right now. The other little chap is the deceptively named Grey Wagtail, who seemed to be engaged in courting behaviour. A charming little bird, he bobbed about for a while utterly unconcerned by the cyclist looking on, fascinated.

April 6th – I came out of Birmingham on cycle route 5, up the canal to Smethwick’s Galton Bridge, then up through the Sandwell Valley to Rushall Junction on the canal. Galton bridge is a historic, very high bridge over the mainline canal. Built in 1829 by Thomas Telford, it’s a classic of its kind and the views from it are fantastic. The canal here is lovely to cycle, and steeped in industrial history. Well worth a wander if you get chance. Travel writer and culvert crawler Nick Crane came this way in his book ‘Two Degrees West’ and pointed out that the arrangement of canals (2, side by side at different levels), Railways (2 different lines at different levels) and road bridges made the physical geography here so complex that he had to draw it out on paper. He’s right.

madoldbaggage:

Another 15 miles today. I took Bob’s advice and went down to Sutton Park via Hobs Hole Lane and then up onto the Roman Road. I should have used my brain and realised that Little Aston Church is in an elevated position and that riding up past there on the Roman Road and up the road itself would involve a climb! I hate climbs. I’m much better at them than a few months ago but I slow down to such a crawl that I could literally walk more quickly. I plodded on though.

I stopped to photograph St Peter’s Church just as a plethora of local ladies driving their 4x4s (tricky off road driving in Little Aston) parked up on the car park and went into the church rooms. I said a cheery hello to each and everyone of them and got not one reply. Perhaps it was my helmet hair?

I haven’t been along Roman Road for 30 years and it’s changed. Most of the side roads are now gated off as  are most of the individual houses with enormous electronic gates in front of each property, each surrounded by tall, thick shrubs, fences and walls. I suppose something has to be done to keep out anyone in need of a fix of skunk as this is the road that became a little notorious a few years ago. There are a lot more houses now too. I suppose that over the years bits of garden have been sold off and new homes built. How the other half live.

I entered Sutton Park via Streetly Gate and to my delight an ice cream van was parked by the Jamboree Stone. I treated myself. I then rode down to Longmoor Pool and then double backed and made my way to Four Oaks Gate taking a little diversion along the way to take a peek at a house where my Grandmother worked for many years when I was a child. Back then it was my glimpse into a world where parents took foreign holidays in the winter for a little sun and left their children behind in the care of responsible people like my Grandparents. Their son was always away at boarding school, something else outside of my own experience and for goodness sake they had central heating! 

The ride back up to Aldridge was a slow climb but I made it without walking!

April 5th – It was a long short week in Telford. Work has been heavy going the last couple of weeks, and I’m glad that today was my last working day of the week. Again returning from Shenstone for the tailwind, the day was gorgeous when I emerged from the train at about 6pm. I opted for the back lanes through Footherley in order to catch the evening sun, which after the snow of yesterday, was warm on my back. The lanes looked beautiful, and I stopped on the hump bridge one the Footherley Brook to study the inscriptions. Generations have carved their marks in the soft sandstone capstones, the oldest I think being the inscription from D Rushbrook, apparently from 1931. I’ve searched locally for the name to no avail, and I often wondered what became of him, or if Billy and Trace, who declared their love in stone on the 20th April 1983 are still an item, 29 years later. I do hope so.

April 5th – There seems to be an awful lot of early-flowering oilseedrape about at the moment. The normal varieties seen in the fields around Shenstone, Stonnall and the outskirts of Brownhills flower around mid-May, but I’ve noticed in the last twelve months late and early strains, like this field near Footherly. It’s a gorgeous plant, I love the colour, the scent and the the bug life it attracts. This oil-rich brassica (that’s right: it’s a member of the cabbage family) must earn a lot for farmers, and seems to be quick and easy to grow. It often receives a bad press, with people blaming the plant for hayfever outbreaks, yet it’s pollen – evolved for insect and contact rather than wind pollination – is far too heavy and sticky to be wind borne.

April 4th – Well, I wasn’t expecting snow. Up early, I looked out of the window just as the white stuff started falling. I’d been expecting a foul commute, but in reality, it wasn’t too bad. It was cold, and damp, but a lot less so than if it had been raining. The biggest hazard was the slipperiness of the roads – not due to ice, but due to weeks of tyre rubber, spilled diesel and silt building up on the road surface without rain to wash it away. In the meltwater, it became a black, slippery goop, just aching to take the wheels from under the unwary cyclist.
The snow was certainly a shock, though, and amongst the spring blooms and blossom of Telford’s roadside verges, the patches of snow made for an unusual, slightly sombre sight. 

April 3rd – Today was about the sky. What it threatened, what it was. What it held back. It was distinctly wintry after recent days, and as I arrived at Shenstone I noticed the old tower visible on the skyline next to the pronounced gargoyles of the new church. Feeling spots of rain on my head on platform 4c at New Street, I looked up. The sky was still being threatening. When I left work and arrived at Telford station, it was wet, miserable and grey. I had a long way to go tonight, and it didn’t look like the commuting gods were on my side. 

Actually, it seemed I was wrong. 

April 2nd – Today was overcast, grey and towards evening, showery. This came as some shock, despite it being the normal seasonal fayre for this time of year. I’ve grown used to the sun and warmth, and to snatch it away now seems a little churlish. Never mind though, there’s the daffodils. Be it in Telford or Shelfield, they are a positive yellow riot at the moment, and they brighten up even the dullest commute.