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December 7th – I keep seeing complaints on social media about the state of Walsall’s Christmas tree this year. Since the tree has faced a bit of an uncertain future in recent years, I’m surprised we’ve got one at all; and so I thought I’d take the opportunity to check it out. I don’t think it’s too shabby at all, to be honest. Sat in front of The Crossing at St Pauls – the church cum shopping centre by the bus station – it seems to fit well in what is possibly the only public square in Walsall that works architecturally. Seems decent enough to me…

December 6th – It’s time for the winter boots again. A couple of times this week I’ve felt that queasy adrenaline rush as either the front or real wheel slipped a little bit while cornering. Such incidents are rare, but a wakeup call I always heed. Nature is telling me that it’s time to swap out the 28mm Marathon Plus tyres and throw on the 38mm Marathon Winter. These are a fatter, lower pressure road tyre exhibiting a chunky tread made from a soft compound with small tungsten carbide studs inlaid that bite into ice, mud and road debris. They’re noisy, don’t roll too well, but grip, even on black ice, like demons. They’re not cheap, but for any commuter who keeps going through rough conditions, I highly recommend them.

December 5th – It was cold today, and I felt it. Winter has me in it’s grip now, and the mornings are bright, icy and clear; the evenings dark, damp and very, very chilly. Today, as I came home through Walsall Wood, I passed the Drunken Duck pub, one of the oldest in the village. Various renamed The Hawthorn and Tipplers, this house has been a stable fixture of Walsall Wood Life for over a century, and still seems popular. With the warm-looking lights on this cold winter night, it’s hard to resist parking up the bike and popping in…

December 3rd – A grainy, long-distance shot across Moor Street Station in a rain shower. I noticed this cautionary warning in the bike shed between platforms 2 and 3. Some careless cyclist – perhaps in a hurry – has locked their bike up by the front wheel. A thief has come along, and just opened the quick release, left the wheel locked to the stand, and made of with the rest of the bike. They may even have nicked a front wheel from an adjacent bike to replace it. Bastards.

If you’re locking your bike up, use 2 or more locks with the ‘Solid Secure’ rating. Use different technologies – one chain and one D lock, for example. Thieves rarely come tooled up to deal with both. Always lock through the frame, and a solid object if possible. 

Bike thieves a the lowest of the low. Don’t make it easy for them.

December 2nd – As I cycled down the bank and onto Apex Road, I noticed the council depot was silent. The roads had clearly already been gritted today, and there didn’t seem to be anyone about. The depot here is where all the gritting operations now take place from, and there’s a huge shelter here full of road salt. Walsall are generally very good at gritting the roads, and getting pebble dashed on the way home from work is now a nightly risk. The amount of machinery stored here to process and spread the deicer is startling, and makes you realise just what a huge operation this seemingly simple task actually is.

December 1st – I notice that Green Lane on the Walsall Wood/Shelfield border is seeing an increase flytipping again. As  usual, this is just domestic refuse, and would have fitted in a wheelie bin or public littler bin. I just can’t work out how the scumbags who do this think. It must take more effort to flytip in many cases than it would do to dispose of the stuff considerately.

December 1st – A better day. I was off to work in the early morning, and returned from Darlaston in the afternoon. I was tired, and with a headwind, I opted for the shelter of the cycle track down through the Goscote Valley to Pelsall. Even still, it was hard work. Stopping on the old railway bridge over Vicarage Road, I realised the Pelsall was now wearing it’s winter jacket. This view of the village always looks so nice, but at this point in winter it always appears so barren. 

November 30th – When you have to be home for something important., that’s when fate trips you up. I was dashing home. I left work at 3:50pm, and the trains I would have caught from Tyseley or Acocks Green were all cancelled due to London Midland’s ongoing staff crisis. Catching a train at Spring Road, I managed to get to New Street in time to catch the Walsall train. When that turned up ten minutes late, it was only two carriages. With other service cancellations, there was no way I’d get on, and the crush I witnessed on the platform was nasty and dangerous. I opted to try for a Lichfield bound service, but they were all similarly stricken or curtailed. After 30 minutes of faff at New Street, I got a train to Four Oaks, and cycled home from there. After a freezing, tired ride, I arrived home at 6:40pm – nearly three hours after I left work.

The local train service operated by London Midland is crippled by bad man-management and operational difficulties. I could have cycled the distance in a third of the time, and wished I had. I’m seriously considering dumping the trains for Birmingham journeys. The farce that is the cancellation of services due to staff losses and mismanagement is harming the reputation of the service, and resulting in huge crowds of frustrated passengers at New Street. Quite how bad this will get with the Christmas crowds is causing me a great deal of concern. Awful.

November 30th – An odd kind of day, characterised mainly by horrendous travel problems. There was an odd atmosphere with nothing quite going to plan, but nothing really wrong, either. Hopping out for a breather at lunch, I tried exploring around Hay Hall, to see if I could find anything else of antiquity. I ended up going round in circles, but did notice this plaque. The huge factory is now a collection of subdivided units, with a curious and unusual tunnel down the middle. I had no idea Rover ever had a works out here. It sits immediately to the southeast of Hay Hall, and somewhat dwarfs it. This is an odd place.