January 7th – A little further on, I noticed that there’s a huge stock of trail building materials being stored up in the Hednesford Hills. There’s a large area of hardstanding there, whose purpose I’m unsure of – I think it could once have been a building. The Chase Heritage Trail crosses this square, and for a few months now, piles of ballast, road planings and bales of brushwood have been appearing. These are the classic materials used to build cycle trails – I wonder what the plan is?
January 7th – emboldened by my trip to Lichfield, I set out into the wind early afternoon and headed to Cannock Chase. I figured that if I could ride up the hills through Heath Hayes and Hednesford, then up to Brindley Heath, I could ride to work. As it happened, I rode it into a nasty wind and in the face of some pretty black clouds. Here at the Hednesford Hills, just on the Chase Heritage Trail, I was preparing for the last climb up to the old RAF Hednesford, and wondering wether to pull out my waterproof hat…
January 5th – Further along the canal, overlooking the Barracks Lane/Watling Street island, traffic looked heavy tonight. It always amuses me to think that down in that valley, watered by the Crane Brook, overlooked by the foursquare Hammerwich Church on the opposite hill, the Staffordshire Hoard lay undisturbed for hundreds of years. Narrowly missed by canals, a railway, various road schemes and a toll motorway, the gold treasure lay undisturbed in a quiet field just to the right of this picture. As kids, we scrambled through this landscape, completely oblivious.
January 5th – The antibiotics seem to be working, but it’s a slow recovery. After spending the morning pottering about feeling great, I spent an hour or so of the afternoon with stomach cramp. There seems to be some kind of battle raging in there between normal function and the infection. It’s kind of interesting in a geeky way. Modern drugs really are a wonderful thing.
I snuck out again just before sunset feeling a bit grim, but the fresh air and exercise soon picked me up. I headed up Brownhills and onto the canal, heading towards Wharf Lane. I was wondering if there would be much damage evident from the high winds, but thankfully, there was none. Stopping to survey the favoured view of Home Farm at Sandhills, I noted that the lone tree that stands where Brawn’s wind pump used to be is still standing. That’s a relief; I tell the seasons by that tree. It’s a fine specimen.
January 4th – I had to go see the doctor. I still had horrendous stomach problems which I was only managing to abate with Immodium. I felt loads better in myself, but I was still having trouble eating. I’ve lost a whole bunch of weight since Friday, but I don’t recommend this as a dieting technique. What started as food poisoning seems to be a bowel infection, and I’m now the proud owner of a large box of antibiotics, which I’m praying will do the trick. Quite pleased that I cycled to the surgery, I took to the canal at Leighswood Bridge and cycled back home to Brownhills along the canal. Passing through Walsall Wood, I noted that Rod, the sculpted fisherman, is still bereft of Bob, his piscean prize. I take it replacing the fish that once dangled from the iron angler’s pole has been given up as a lost cause. Predictable, but sad.
January 3rd – It was at the southern end of the park I first heard it. An insistent, solid, two-pulse, one note, regular cry. Loud, actually, but until now, lost in the traffic noise and windrush. I dropped down into the base of the park and followed the calling. It was very nearly dusk, only the odd hardy dog walker or two around, and the persistent bird call, coming, as it turned out, from the dense copse in the northern hollow. What I think was a little owl (but I’m no expert on bird calls, it was certainly an owl) was calling out for all it was worth. I was in awe. Days of feeling lower than a snake’s knees, and then to hear such a bird a short ride away. Fabulous.
January 3rd – after a rough morning (the stomach still not giving me any respite, to be honest) I perked up in the afternoon and again braved the wind. Since my range and energy reserve were limited, I tacked round through Walsall Wood and let the wind blow me up through Holly Bank and Shire Ridge to Shire Oak Nature reserve. I hadn’t been here since spring, and the character had completely changed. Incredibly, the gorse was just passing through the far side of it’s second flowering, and the bogs and pools in the hollows of this former sand and gravel quarry had once again been enlivened by the rains. The thing that impressed me most, however, was the birdlife.
December 29th – I returned, wet and feeling low at dusk along the canal. Crossing Ogley Junction, I stopped to contemplate: I had so many cycling plans for this Christmas; I wanted to go to Derbyshire again, visit Hoar Cross and the Needwood Valley; roam the villages around Mancetter and Nuneaton. Sadly, it wasn’t to be. Maybe we’ll get some real winter weather soon – snow, or frosty, bright days with a gentler wind. Ah well, there’s always tomorrow…
December 29th – Chasetown as ever, seemed to be slumbering peacefully as I passed through at lunchtime. Wet, wild, stormy, a filthy day all round. I remember this town before it closed – but there is some great architecture here; the first church in the UK to be lit by electric light, the Old Mining College – run by the wonderful Steve Lightfoot, and this house, Chase Lodge. I have no idea of its history. Great chimneys, and a sympathetic extension. Look at the brickwork at the tip of the gable. That’s a bricky showing off, that is…
December 27th – I had some stuff to get from Maplin, on the Orbital Centre in Cannock. I hate cycling there – the ride is so very boring. I compensated myself by tearing up Brownhills Common first. After a run up the A5 to the Washbrook Lane junction, near the burnt-out Watermargin restaurant, I turned up the new road and over the M6 Toll flyover. They must have been having some kind of IT problem – the road wasn’t really that busy, yet there were queues at the toll gates. I’ve not seen that before. Good evening, lemmings…
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