Images

November 18th – My second attempt to find badgers. On Cannock Chase, In the dark, I found them. They were wonderful, but the light was too bad to take pictures. I won’t say where they were for obvious reasons, and I watched them way too long. I was left to rush home, back through the forest in darkness. It was brilliant, but very cold. All I could hear was owls, the flow of water, and small animals scuttling through the undergrowth. The Chase at night is a wonderful, full-on sensory experience.

November 17th – Winter, cycling in darkness. I really can’t stress this enough, but lights, folks, lights. Lights are about being seen – creating a moving point of highlight in a dark world. In an urban environment, that’s all you need: to this end cheap LED blinkies and such are perfectly adequate. In rural environments, and for moving at speed off road in the dark, good forward illumination is essential. The better the light, the sooner you see hazards, the faster you can potentially go. I use an LED light by Hope, of Barnoldswick in the UK; it’s their flagship R4 model, and is very bright indeed. This is a non-assisted photo and shows the light spread on a medium setting. I have a very bright rear light from the same company. I love Hope’s stuff. They keep me safe at night.

November 16th – A little further on stands the ghost of the Catshill Flour Mill. Now converted into pleasant flats, this imposing, foursquare building once milled the flour for the bread of the town, before being converted into a factory making metal components. Repurposed 20 years ago, the mill still stands imposingly over a largely limpid and quiet canal. Oh, the tales it could tell…

November 16th – A day working from home – for working, read pottering about. I had to go to the dentist mid day, and wasn’t looking forward to it. I spun out for a short ride before the dreaded appointment. It was still murky, and a gentle mist sat over the fields towards Home Farm at Sandhills. My favourite tree – my seasonal chronometer – is now leafless, heralding the end of Autumn and the barren darkness of winter. Still, it’s a beautiful thing, whatever the season. I pulled up my collar, and pressed on.

November 14th – Further on, I stopped to take a photo and ponder. I’m a grown bloke, and nothing much scares me. Heavy traffic? No problem. Speed? Not at all. Heights? Maybe a little. Darkness? Not at all, love cycling in the dark, especially in rural places. Green Lane, between Shelfield and Walsall Wood at night? Hell yeah. I’ve no idea why, it’s the only place I ever feel nervous out at night, and I’ve cycled in some grim places. Something about the darkness, the woods and the traffic combine to really make me feel queasy down here after dark. 

I think it’s to do with finding a car accident down here a few years back. The imagery of that stays with me.

I must be turning into a right wuss in my old age.

November 14th – Commuting in the darkness hours. For the first few weeks after the autumn clock change, drivers go a bit loopy. I don’t know if stats back this up, but it feels like everything gets a bit unhinged until normality returns at around the beginning of December. In the last few weeks on my way home I’ve been pulled out on, undertaken, cut up and lefthooked. This is with huge bright lights and hi-viz. 

This collective madness is heightened when I hear the spine-chilling siren and see the blue flashes. When emergency vehicles appear, I always make sure I’m well out of the way, as folk never seem quite sure what to do. Tonight, in the queue at Shelfield, I was safe as the paramedic shot past in the other direction. On their way to someone desperately in need, no doubt. Maybe a traffic accident. My blood ran cold. 

I hate this time of year.

November 10th – I have an odd relationship with Morris, the Brownhills Miner. I like the sculpture,  he’s well-loved, and I really appreciate the work that’s gone into making him. But when it comes down to it, it’s a 10 metre stainless steel miner, lit by blue LED lights. Pretty, but also pretty ineffective. Morris didn’t bring regeneration, or prosperity. He doesn’t symbolise a rebirth or recovery. He just stands, back to the town, holding a lamp out to see if anything better is coming, all the while reminding us of what was lost.

That’s the thing about civic pride, statuary and economics. It’s best done when you’ve fixed the other stuff. It’s not a cure all.