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February 3rd – I headed back up the canal, but unusually, got off at Clayhanger Bridge and headed back up through the village because the towpath was so slippery and unridable – note here, It is almost one continuous puddle.

From the bridge looking towards Walsall Wood, I could hear the violent thrash of water cascading down the canal overflow behind me. The lower meadow on Clayhanger Common will flood soon, I think, and the Tame will be running high too. 

I’ve chronicled some bad weather on this journal over the seven years it’s been running – we’ve had some bad winters and bad summers. But I’ve never known a January this cold and wet.

There had better be a decent spring coming…

February 3rd – A day without rain would be nice. So nice.

It rained all day, and I barely left the house; I had technical difficulties with some work equipment that kept me busy on a fool’s errand most of the afternoon, before it turned out the problem was not mine at all.

I got nothing done. I felt low and troubled and realised that although physically better, I’m still recovering and have the post-illness blues. I’m sure you know how it goes – you still have some climbing to do and the daily grind hasn’t stopped for you to hop back on and catch up.

I had to nip up Walsall Wood in the early evening on an errand. I got wet, it was cold and I felt every pedal stroke.

I know everything will improve, and I’ll slip back into the daily rhythm soon. But right now I feel spare and down.

January 31st – One of the sure signs of a change in season from winter to spring is the appearance of various types of catkins, which are most commonly seen at this time of year on hazel trees, or in the case of these long ones, alder.

Alder is curious in that the buds you can see are also flows, the large blooms are male, and those female.

The word catkin is likely to have come from the Dutch Kateken, meaning kitten – due to the resemblance to kitten’s tails.

Catkins emerge this time of year as they’re wind pollinating, and emergence after coming into leaf would hamper pollination.

January 30th – It’s on the way back up. As my lungs clear, my on-bike performance is improving; my average speed over the same commute journey has gained 1.7mph in a week.

It’s still not up to it’s usual 13-14mph, but I’m getting there.

I’m also really liking the Velo utility for the Garmin Edge 1030 on IQ – it gives some great speed tools in one nicely laid out large data field.

January 26th – Returning from Walsall Wood in darkness I’m pleased to see the hedgerow arch over the towpath between the Black Cock Bridge and Clayhanger Bridge has escaped the attentions of the tree cutting crew who’ve been so keen down here since Christmas.

Despite appearances, it’s clear of your average cyclist’s head and is delightful in summer.

And rather spooky in a headlight-lit night…

January 25th – The art of the traffic light snatched photo is night quite dead, just a bit rusty.

Another day of grim, grey commutes, but crossing the Arboretum Junction in Walsall was a the same wonder of light, standing water, marooned architecture and controlled chaos it always has been.

Some things are changeless, and when you’re recovering, that’s what you need.

January 24th – The morning commute had be a sodden, wind-battling, dreadful affair; the evening one was dry, clear, warm and quieter.

This gave me a good chance with the Civic Quarter in Walsall. Sorry, I’ll stop with the night shots soon.

The odd camber of the paving here and colliding angles still annoy me even time I look at it…

January 24th – The awful news of the tragic, senseless death has left me, like many other local people, hollow, hurting and shell shocked. It has cast a long shadow over the town and a community reels in shock.

Getting to work after riding in a torrential, early morning downpour, I was wet, spare, lost and disheartened.

But then, on the grass outside the front of my workplace, I noticed specks of white in the gloom I expected to be spilled polystyrene or litter.

They wer daisies. optimistic, bright, open daisies, pushing for the sky, hopeful of sun, better days and spring.

And after finding them, I was just a little bit lighter.

January 22nd – Darkness is on the run.

Sunrise, 8:04 – Sunset 4:33. A month ago it was 8:18 and 3:53. On a decent day, it’s now not properly dark until gone 5pm.

This is making me happy. Every day, I note the tiny increase snatched back from the night, Every day, I’m a little bit closer.

Just shake this cold, get some flowers out, and it’ll be well on the way to spring.