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February 4th – Out for a good ride to Middleton and Tamworth on a sunny, bright but cold afternoon. I shot through Footherley against the wind, but as I came through the hamlet itself, I stopped and did a double take.

The old terraced cottages here – which had been derelict as long as I’ve been cycling these lanes, so near enough 40 years at least – have finally been demolished, and nothing now remains.

I’m not really sad for their loss – they were unremarkable in themselves historically and architecturally – but they were a landmark, and I’ll miss the marker they provided.

I wonder – can Keepers Cottage, the house similarly derelict near the brook, back towards Lower Stonnall – be long for the world? I think not.

February 2nd – I went into Birmingham late in the day, and 2very tired, I picked my return station to give me best wind advantage.

As I got out my gloves and sorted the lights and things at Blake Street, I watched a second train come through, a blur of light.

Sometimes, that’s exactly how I feel.

February 2nd -Spring is easing inn slowly, and unlike the seasonal transitions from Summer to Autumn and Autumn to Winter, this one makes me very happy indeed. I’ve been finding myself almost in the light commuting to and from work – it won’t be long now until the darkness is pushed back enough to feel truly alive again. And in the meantime, isolated pockets of early flowers, like the cheerful yellow acolytes spotted in Victoria Park in Darlaston.

Won’t be long now. Just have to keep the faith!

January 31st – While I’ve yet to break my snowdrop duck for the spring (and BrownhillsCommoner sent me a lovely picture of the ones in his garden) there are some spring flowers around, although maybe not conventional blooms.

These catkins are showing well at the moment in Wednesbury, and are a common feature of hedgerows, scrubs and waysides. They are the male flowers of the alder tree, and also occur on the close relative, Birch.

Wind pollinated, these blossoms don’t have normal petals or a flower like structure, but are a lovely, bright feature of late winter and a signpost into spring.

January 27th – That was a cold one, and quite a fun ride, too. Coldest for a while. Wrapped up well, the roads weren’t particularly icy but there was a hard hoar frost.

It was the kind of morning when your breath burns in your throat and your forehead hurts in the headwind, but still a joy to ride in for the sheer challenge.

All we need now is a decent snowfall and it’ll be a proper winter…

January 26th – On a particularly bitter day, pulling up at my destination in Telford and pushing the bike through the complex, a flash of white and yellow caught my eye.

Tiny, on it’s own and in the shade of a tree, a single, presumably somewhat confused daisy.

Hello there, little flower: in the cold and grey, this morning you made my day.

January 25th – On the way to work at dawn on a cold morning. There was patchy ice on the canal, but not enough to impede the swans as they scudded toward Silver Street, presumably for food from fellow dawn commuters and walkers. Dawn had wrapped a gentle pink shroud over proceedings, which was lovely.

The light is creeping back into life, tentatively, slowly. 

It’s most welcome.

January 23rd – Heading into Birmingham on a dull, misty and early morning, I hit a queue of traffic along Blake Street which was unusual, Rounding the bend, I saw an articulated lorry with the top of it’s trailer crudely torn off – the effect of driving it under the low bridge now behind it.

The vehicle but have been going at a fair speed as the entire of the trailer’s roof was destroyed, and the HGV near clear of the railway over bridge.

There really is no excuse for this, and it’s fortunate nobody was injured. Any driver has to know the height of their rig and where the acceptable routes are. Trying to think of anything to mitigate this guy’s position I came up blank.

Perhaps the bridge should have been wearing more hi-vis…

This king of the road’s idiocy mate for a touch and go, very uncomfortable commute for me and anyone else who was on the Cross City Line. What’s so maddening is this is a fairly regular occurrence here.

How hard is it to read a warning sign?

January 22nd – I couldn’t think where to go, so I just took turn after turn following my nose. I ended up doing two laps of the backlanes around Stonnall and Shenstone which was nice enough, and seeing the feeble light die and the house lights come on was strangely comforting.

I love these lanes. They have been my companion, my constant, unwavering friend, confidante and riding partner for 35 years or more. I know them so well, and sometimes, when the atmosphere or weather isn’t great, just riding loops of these familiar byways is enough. 

Sometimes, you stick to the reassuringly familiar.

January 21st – It seems my optimism at the dawning of the light the previous day was seriously misplaced. Saturday was grey and cold and had nothing to give in it’s merit.

I slid out around dusk after spattering the bike: as usual when fixing up a steed, it always feels faster and way better, although what I’d done had not affected the drivetrain at all. Perhaps it’s a salved guilty conscience over lack of maintenance that makes it ride better.

Chasewater at night has lost none of it’s magic, and I guess we’re again heading into the season of good sunsets, which is another thing to be positive about, but as it was today, the lake and park were still and cold, save for the gentle grumbling of swans sheltering in the lee of the dam.

Spring will be nice this year, I’ve decided…