December 24th – Scouting for deer, I came across this pair of bandits on the canal towpath by Clayhanger Common. They normally dwell in the field off Northfields Way at Clayhanger, but keep escaping, the owner apparently at a loss to know how. As a consequence, they roam Clayhanger village and common, and are developing somewhat truculent personalities.
It took some coaxing to move them so I could get past!
December 23rd – Again up at the sparrow’s cough, this time I needed to go to Bridgnorth, and again had a long day before me. The dawn was warmer, and the early morning less grim than the day before.
At Silver Court, the newsagent was just open – but the building lights hadn’t clicked on yet and the shop sign made for an odd, otherworldly, brutalist portal.
December 22nd – Looping back down the High Street it was getting light on the eastern horizon, and the view from Anchor Bridge was altogether more positive.I’m frequently out and about at this hour, but rarely stop to take photos.
Perhaps I should.
December 22nd – Up very early to head to Bakewell, I kn ew I’d be worn out on my return, so I went for a spin in the early hours before I left.
Heading through a dark, pre-dawn Brownhills that was quiet and untroubled, I didn’t see a soul and felt like a somnambulant, cycling ghost.
At Silver Street, even the boats were in darkness and the waterfowl weren’t up yet. I surveyed the scene with a full day ahead and reflected on the quiet, so far unawakened would around me.
December 21st – And so, on the way back to Brownhills, a familiar subject that was today in darkness due to the lack of moonlight. The canal was millpond still and there was little wind – a situation that looks about to change, with incoming intemperate weather threatening.
I can remember really, really cold Christmases – with snow on the ground, if not truly white – but we haven’t had one for a few years now.
I suppose s decent covering of snow this winter is too much to ask?
December 21st – At last, work is over for the year, coinciding happily with the shortest day. The winter solstice is important to me, as once it’s passed, the days begin their sinusoidal rollercoaster of opening out once more – slowly at first, then careering to daylight as the spring comes.
When I reach this point, I always feel I’ve survived. From here on in, things can only improve. And Christmas is here!
I passed the Black Cock in Walsall Wood on my way home; a pub that’s clinging on despite several changes of landlord in a short time, it remains popular and the welcoming, warm lights in the darkness made it feel festive and welcoming.
I’m ready for Christmas now, and a rest.
December 20th – I keep passing this sign at the garden centre on the Chester Road near Mill Green, and as I passed it tonight, I realised that as with every year, it’s purpose had now all but ceased; few people will be buying the traditional nordman fir now, and so inexorably, the season is ticking away; One more day at work, then holiday, then on my return, a new year and nights that open out again after the winter solstice and shortest day, which occur the very next day.
Time marches on quickly for me these days, but this autumn, with the huge workload and long hours, has seemed particularly cruel.
I long for spring flowers, warm breezes and the sun on my face.
Soon be over the peak.
December 20th – In Shelfield, a reminder of the season. The holly, unlike the cotoneaster, is profuse this year, and every bush I see has the most perfect, shiny, plastic looking leaves.
The bright berries are cheering and a delight on a grey morning.
Only two days to go!
December 15th – My life, at the moment.
Telford, late. Heavy rain, waiting for a train that was, at least, not crowded and on time. A real late night feelings moment – I particularly liked the effect of the platform lights in the rain.
Only four days to go now.
December 14th – Having arrived at work, I discovered I was needed in Telford, so nothing for it, I headed for the train. At New Street, there were delays and confusion and the usual busy, frenetic chaos.
I stood at the end of the platform, wandering what I was doing there. Every signal light I could see was red.
Some days wear you out before you start.
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