January 8th – I slunk around the industrial estates on the Walsall Wood and Aldridge border. I felt shifty. A few stray vehicles clearly regarded me with suspicion. But this was the fulfilment of something I’d wanted to do for a while – I’m fascinated by deserted, functional spaces. Factory doors. Loading bays. Transformer houses. The dull, the everyday. Few people study them. But at night, when nobody is around, they become strangely beautiful to me. I haven’t a clue why.
January 6th – I feel one hell of a lot better. The stomach is settling, my sense of taste has returned and I’ve got itchy feet. I solved the latter problem yesterday by saddling up my favourite bike and heading down the back lanes to Lichfield. It was an experiment – still not eating a huge amount, I kept an eye on the energy and took it easy. I needn’t have worried. It was like a spring day. These lanes are old familiars, yet cycling and fresh air was new to me again. I dawdled. I stopped to look. I enjoyed the feel of the afternoon chill. I went to Lichfield, sat in a cafe, drank good tea and ate toasted tea cakes, then cycled home, including Shire Oak Hill without stopping. I slept well, but it’s a start.
I feel better.
January 4th – Another really, really windy day. One thing about being ill that’s not been too bad it that it’s been during some thoroughly lousy cycling weather. I was surprised, therefore, to note the guys recladding Humpries House – Brownhills last remaining high-rise block – were pottering about on their mobile platforms near the top of the building. Until I started to think about that, my stomach had been quite settled. My respect for those chaps is boundless. You’d have to anaesthetise me to get me up there on a still day…
January 2nd – I finally plucked up courage just before sunset. I was still quite unwell, and am still suffering the upset stomach now, but I’d eaten a little, and wanted fresh air and the reassurance that I could still ride. It was very, very windy, and my energy levels pitiful. With the solid feel of my bike under me, I set off. Oddly liberated, I sped through Brownhills and back along the canal. I’d really missed this. The wind had been crafted on Satan’s anvil, but for once I just clicked down the gears and mashed through it. My energy didn’t last long, but I was back. I could do this again.
The sunset at Clayhanger bridge, and dusk looking toward the Jollier Collier Bridge from the Old Cement Works bridge made nice pictures.
Lying at home thinking, I decided I had to continue the 365daysofbiking project, to to make it fair, it had to start again from today. That’s the only way I can feel better about this, so I’ll continue.
December 30th – Something wasn’t right. The weather had been appalling all day. I’d hidden indoors, and I’d been busying myself with a few other projects. As I pottered around, I felt increasingly unwell. Finally dragging myself out of the house at 8:30pm, it was very black, rainy and miserable. I was not on top form. Every pedal revolution felt like it was draining the strength from my body. I forgot my Gorillapod. I never do that.
After a loop around Brownhills, Clayhanger and Walsall Wood, I returned home, still feeling unwell. Later in the evening, I went out to the pub. I sat there for an hour with a good friend, shivering and feeling rotten, and found myself almost unable to walk home. Something was very, very wrong with me.
December 28th – I hadn’t been up Haywood Warren for a very long time. The steep collection of ridges sit between the Sherbrook and Abraham Valleys, and offer splendid views of Tixall and Shugborough to the north. At dusk, it was haunting. Total peace apart from bird calls and the territorial hooting of an owl somewhere in the woodland behind me. This is a completely different spot with every season. I must return here more often.
December 28th – It was so windy, the only place to head for a bit of decent cycling was the shelter of the Chase. Although the wind blasts through there as it does anywhere else, there is safe haven in the woodland tracks and valleys. I did the usual loop of Birches Valley, Penkridge Bank and Abraham’s valley, before scrambling up Hayood Warren at dusk and heading back up Haywood Slade and Marquis Drive to Castle ring across country in darkness. The fallow deer were in their usual spot, happily feeding. 80 or so photos, but the light was so poor only a few were usable. Curse the winter… I also saw 2 muntjac, a first for me. Hurtling out of the thicket near rifle range corner, they were a blur of red fur about the size of a labrador, and then gone. A wonderful sight.
December 27th – Pritchard-tecture is a curse or a blessing in South Staffordshire, depending on your point of view. The Hednesford based developers have been responsible for much of the commercial redevelopment of brownfield sites around Cannock, Burntwood and Rugeley, often on former mining land. Such faith and confidence in the local economy is wonderful, but the buildings created are not to everyone’s taste. The curved, gaudy, glass and neon structures are certainly distinctive. Here at Great Wyrley, the futuristic buildings certainly improve on their background – the Poplars Landfill site. Give Mr. Pritchard a break, folks…
Christmas Eve – I dropped down into the city, not as a shopper, but as an observer. It was quite deserted at 5pm, nothing much was going on except the clearance of the market stalls. The sound of cathedral bells rang out and I was aware of a casual drift towards the close by those around me. I always feel odd at this time on Christmas Eve; it’s all over bar the shouting, and commercially at least, Christmas is over. Peace and best wishes to all those reading this, may Christmas bring you all you desire. See you on the other side…
December 23rd – Here’s a warning: beware of muggers at Chasewater. These five geese – who seem like domestic escapees to me – have been living on the boating lake near the Innovation Centre since mid-summer. Ratty, noisy and aggressive, they make the Canada Geese around them look somewhat timid. Today, as I cycled past on my return, their bellies were clearly empty due to a lack of visitors. They hustled toward me, flapping and honking, and realising I had no food, set about pecking my feed and bike. Geese are mad and stupid – I always thought that if you could somehow cross one with a chicken the result would be truly psychotic.
BrownhillsBob's #365daysofbiking 