May 7th - Ach, the sadness of things. This elderly bike - a GT - isn’t a bad steed, but is in poor condition. I noticed it this morning leaning forlornly against the bike racks at Blake Street station. The rear mechanism hanger had sheared, and something looks like it has smashed in the derailleur. The bike had clearly been abandoned for the train. Sad.

That ruined someone’s day, I bet.

May 2nd - I spotted this remnant today at Blake Street Station I’d never noticed before; it looks like the ruins of a platform, and  maybe a different track layout, probably from the original station. I must have looked at this set of orphan steps for years and never registered what they were.

April 29th - In contrast, old British Rail. Where else would one find a springtime shadow like this? Tyseley may be down at heel, but it has a real, old-school charm.

April 29th - Birmingham New Street - new start? Well, it’s bright, and smells of resin, I suppose. It also smells heavily of engineering compromise, forced retail opportunity and bodge.

My first experience of the much vaunted new station access way was this morning, and after all the hype, I wasn’t sure what to expect. It’s very much unfinished, and some aspects of the project show quite bad judgement.

This is no longer a station, but is a shopping centre with railway platforms. Everything is quite a bit longer to get to than before, and the access points funnel crowds carefully past the new shop units. The platforms themselves remain as narrow and cramped as ever, but with new escalators and lifts that go direct between concourse and platform, instead of via the subway. Sadly, they’re tiny, unable to accommodate a bike and pushchair at the same time, or my bike lengthways. This is dreadful.

The new concourse is nice, the light is pleasant and it’s quite airy. I’m not keen on the stone flooring, but each to his own. The cafe looks nice, and the information up there was good, unlike the platforms where a mixture of old, incorrect signage and new stuff just confused people.

The ticket barriers are much better, and access with a bike is OK even when crowded. However, the exit in Stephenson Place is bizarre, and doubles the length of the journey to Moor Street, meaning I’ll no longer make tight connections. 

My advice to anyone planning to park a bike in racks there and travel is don’t do it. There are woefully few racks, stuck in a dark corner of the Moor Street access subway, a while away from the station. Although covered by CCTV, the Sheffield stands are only bolted down. An industrious pair of scallies with a spanner and some bottle could clear those stands of bikes in minutes. This is unforgivable.

On the whole it’s nicer, but functionally more awkward in many ways. It’s much more walking to get in and out, and I wouldn’t fancy it with limited mobility. The architecture is nice, and they’ve worked hard to make a space with no natural light more human-freindly. But the pokey lifts, poor access to Moor Street and focus of retail jarr with me a little too much.

It’ll be interesting to see how things develop.

April 23rd - To be in England, in the springtime. I had to go to Leicester, and the patch of waste ground that so enthrals me at South Wigston Station was, as ever, a joy to the heart. Beebuzz and birdsong greeted me as I hefted my bike of the train in the bright, warm sun; peacock butterflies flitted about the lush flowers. Grape Hyacinth, primrose, gorse, dandelion. Performing for me, in this moment, in the middle of urban sprawl. A small wayside oasis, hardly noticed by anyone.

It doesn’t get much better than this.

April 18th - The evening sunlight was gorgeous tonight. Late home from work, I’d been blown to the station in the morning by the most incredible tailwind, hammering 40+ miles per hour down Shire Oak Hill and making Shenstone a whole 5 minutes quicker than usual. My return from Walsall in the evening was similarly assisted, but to a lesser degree as the wind had subsided somewhat.

It was a beautiful ride, even if it deal feel a little chillier than the last few days.

April 16th - Today, passing through Tyseley, I noticed a work crew of lookouts and technicians were on the tracks as trains passed by slowly. I wondered what they were doing, and stopped to take a look. The one chap has a measuring gauge, and is checking carefully the distance between the rails around a set of points.

It never occurred to me that this was necessary, but once thought about, the geometry of the tracks must have to be perfect. It seems a whole industry of measuring equipment exists specially for the purposes of checking the tracks.

I love the way the guys work as a group - I saw five - with some being lookouts stationed with horns to warn those engaged in the task that a train may be coming.

he work practices of the railway fascinate me.

April 12th - I love Moor StreetStation in Brum. Not only is it a lovely, light airy and atmospheric station, but on the whole the staff are more relaxed and customer focused than their competitors. Coming through tonight, I noticed some inconsiderate muppet had locked their bike to the security railings by the ticket barrier inside the station. If this had been a Virgin Station, the bike would have been removed and it all would have been rather tetchy. Here, they sellotape a warning notice to the bike, which considering it’s not actually a trip hazard, makes sense. That’s a nice approach.

Their spelling is about as good as mine.

April 2nd - Something odd happened on the way home tonight. Spring came to me. 

I came back through Walsall - when I entered the railway system at Telford, it was dull and cold. When I emerged, blinking into the light on Platform 1 in Walsall, the sun was oddly warm on my back. It was still bitter, and the easterly that sapped my essence on the way home was worthy of any winter, but I could feel the warmth. Pulling my gloves on in the odd entrance tunnel to the orphan platform, I noted the sunlight shining in from outside. From the Black Cock Bridge in Walsall Wood, it could have been an evening in April.

At last. 

I was knackered, but spring is finally tapping on my window. Welcome back, old friend.

February 26th - Today’s tasks in Telford ended early and I returned home at lunchtime. Mindful of the wind after a dreadful commute that morning, I came back to Lichfield for a cup of tea and hopefully a better journey home with a following northeasterly. At Lichfield City Station, I noticed that, despite the cold and poor weather, the cycle racks here are still very well used and clearly popular. 

I noted too, that the immense Pashley flying bedstead was still here - a bit less shiny, but still as loved. The guy who rides that must do stunt double for the Jolly Green Giant. That bike is huge.

February 18th - It was a beautiful day, and one of the first of the year when, having started and finished work at a normal hour, I cycled home in the light, rather than darkness. This day is always momentous, for me, it symbolises the optimism of the opening out.

Despite the sunshine and beautiful light, it’s still winter. It was jolly cold on Tyseley station, but the light was nice, andI still love the air of faded grandeur the place presents. I like how, when looking down the platforms, the station buildings look precariously balanced over the rails beneath. 

The old chap had nodded off, and his companion gently woke him as the train rolled in…

February 11th - I was expecting quite a bit of snow, but we only really had a dusting. I was again in Telford, and the transport, mercifully, ran to time and I got to my destination without hassles. Telford looked great with it’s white jacket. Normally quite dismal, the urban scenery looked great today.

Funny how snow can bring the dullest landscapes to life.

February 6th - At the other end of the day, at Walsall, delightfully in the half-light at 5:30pm, the sunset was beautiful, and it was dry. I loved the lights, and the sky, and yet again, the exaggerated vanishing point the elongated geometry formed.

I don’t know where my love of railways at night comes from. It’s not about trains, or the experience of travel. But the light, the signals, the dark and the interaction of machinery and landscape. The windy sweep of trains passing through, and often the solitude. I think it’s from my childhood but can’t place why, exactly.

Back in the 1970s there was a record label called Late Night Feelings. One of it’s logos was a beautiful, childlike crayon drawing of the then new Intercity 125 speeding through a darkened station at night, with a pair of children watching on the platform. That’s exactly how I feel.

A mystery.

February 6th - A grim commute. It started dry, and with a decent enough day forecast, left the waterproofs at home. On the way to Blake Street, the drizzle intensified and I arrived somewhat soggy. I haven’t had much luck with the morning commutes this week. 

There’s still something captivating, though, about wet stations in the half-light. Oh well, here’s to a better day tomorrow. Hopefully.

February 5th - By heck, it was nippy this morning. We’d had the merest icing sugar dusting of snow, but after the almost humid warmth of the preceding period, the cold was a shock, as was the ice on the roads, particularly Wallheath Lane. I stomped and puffed into my hands as the sun rose at Shenstone Station; it caught the clouds beautifully and I reached for the camera.

Some things are worth getting cold for.