December 5th – It wasn’t a great day for train travel in the Midlands (or the rest of the country, for that matter). Signal failures led to horrid delays getting to work, and storm damage mainly caused by falling trees stopped lines to Walsall and Lichfield during the afternoon and evening, so I cycled home from Brum and gave the trains a miss completely.

I noted that Notwork Fail have this year put up a lush, artificial Christmas Tree in the ‘New’ New Street.

It’s irritatingly not straight, buy very apposite.

December 4th – Also in South Wigston, a postie’s bike. I was intrigued by this one as it shows how heavily loaded these things are these days – and why they’re being phased out in favour of electric carts and vehicles. Postmen and women these days deliver far more parcels and packets than they used to, and less letters, which make for heavier, bulkier delivery pouches. 

This bike is interesting, too; not the usual design I see around, this is a step-through and has 3spead hub gear, with Bendix hub brakes. The water bottle made me smile, too…

December 3rd – An evening ride up to Walsall Wood had me crossing the High Street at the Ogley Road junction, just by the former Warreners Arms, after checking out some of the old names scratched into the brickwork of the former pub.I noted in an instant how much this view had changed in a decade; ten years ago, there would be two tall high-rises on the right, and a row of grim maisonettes on the left. The intervening years have seen them all carried to dust, a period of dereliction, followed by new build. On the right, Knave’s Court, a care complex for the elderly, and on the left, Ogley Hay Court, modern flats and houses. 

Change happens slowly. Occasionally, something snags on your memory, and you realise how much changed without you registering it.

December 3rd – A better day today. The bug had receded, and I took a day out for rest and paperwork. I took a spin up into Brownhills at lunchtime on an errand, and took the opportunity to check out the canalside at Silver Street. I note work clearing the scrub on the land formerly occupied by Silver Court Gardens has been taking place, which may indicate someone’s got plans. At Silver Street itself, the area of canal bank laughably termed a ‘marina’ in development documents of the day is looking considerably down-at-heel. The paving is breaking up, the barriers rotten and falling down. The greenery is nice, of course, but the open space really could do with a bit of a refurbishment. This seemed likely in 2007 when the new bridge was unveiled, but any plans for environmental improvements seem to have faded.

It would be easy to blame Walsall Council for this, but it belongs to the Canal and River Trust, who don’t really seem bothered over it. I know local Councillors and others have fought hard to no avail to get the barriers replaced, and local volunteers work hard here litter picking.

It’s ironic that as these moorings decline, they’ve recently been so well used by boats.

It’s all a bit sad, really.

November 27th – I came back to Brownhills late, and on an oddly warm evening. I was knackered, frankly; I hadn’t had lunch and my energy reserves were very low. I’d fought what seemed like a devilish headwind from Lichfield but it was, in reality, nothing extreme. I pulled over on Anchor Bridge to get a shot down the High Street, which turned out lousy due to headlights. However, this quick image of the canal didn’t turn out too bad.

When I last looked, those trees had leaves… my, how the year has mached on.

November 26th – Heading off to work on a less than inspiring morning. I’m glad to say I’m used to the chill again now, but the greyness is still a bind. As I sped down through Stonnall, I passed Grove Hill. Last time I looked up there, it was a field of oilseed rape, and the tree, now barren, was in full leaf.

There’s a winter crop grown in the surrounding field now, which was young and vivid green, perhaps the only splash of natural colour on an otherwise dismal grey morning.

That hedge still demonstrates soil erosion beautifully, mind. The folks that planted that knew exactly what they were doing.