In the eighth week of lock down part of my new normal is to enjoy a circular cycle ride around Smethwick and Oldbury. It takes in views of the currently closed Thimblemill Library and Thimblemill Brook - resplendent in spring time pink and white apple blossom, dazzling bright buttercups, clumps of brilliant bright bluebells and tall, swaying Bishops Goutweed is cast widely over the brook like delicate white lace. Dandelions and their silver seed heads are also scattered along my way up Norman Road which is mostly clear of cars and the blue sky gently kisses the kerb and tarmac before me. It is quite beautiful and comes instead of a trip to Clent or a train ride to Barmouth or Borth.
The new normal also includes small pockets of activity with line men fixing up and hanging new 5G fibre phone cables or laying new pipe ways while the majority STAY HOME and SAVE THE NHS from its own government's decade of cuts and sell offs. Fortunately, we all know builders don't get Corona Virus and the daily 5 O'clock TV roll calls of death in figures that hover around 500 a day, well, they are just others, not us. So that's all right then, isn't it? Phew! Anyway, I must push on. The wheels turning, gears sliding into place and semi detached houses with brilliant white double glazing whir by as I pedal and push, pedal and push FORWARD like the Birmingham motto. Because I can. And somehow that's a comfort amidst this virus and chaos, just doing the simple things, helping when and where I can, before all of this, just pedal and push. It's a welcome rhythm, my hour without lycra or TV exercise gurus, good and bad news on the radio or antisocial media. And then, suddenly as Bleakhouse Library comes into view I see to the right hand side of me an elderly, plump man, on the cross roads between Bleakhouse Road and Broadway Road. I notice he is stooping and tending to his dog as I slow up for the lights that are sadly going from Green, to Amber then Red. So, I stop and notice his hair. No Covid Haircut for him. Instead he has a bright yellow clump of hair flowing out into a pointed wavy cone from the side of his head. On the other side I notice a clump and wavy cone of red hair and at the front he has a long wavy blue fringe. But, that was not all as further back from his fringe was a patch of green hair and beyond that at the back was a purple splash of colour and unkempt hair. I shouted over to him "Nice Hair there!" and he simply shouted back "Thank You!" Well, I hadn't seen anything quite like that and as I pedal and push Forward towards the closed up, silent and dry pub, The George, I decide it would be great to cycle back and ask if I could take a picture of his colourful hair 'style.' Well, as I cycled back and looked down Broadway I couldn't see him so I then cycled back towards the imposing Saint Hubert's church along Bleakhouse Road and I still can't find him, his colourful shock of hair, or his dog. So, I turned back and took a left at the Bleakhouse and Broadway crossroad lights and caught up with a couple of teenage girls taking their hour of exercise nearby the Bleakhouse Library. I ask them '"have you by any chance seen an old man with a dog and brightly coloured hair?" and as I finish my sentence one of the girls sharply nudges the other one and they just keep walking away from me at faster pace without any further need for talk. I say "I'm not mad you know" though as I say these famous, reassuring words I realised that was that. No picture of the man with a dog and brightly coloured hair to prove it and show it. So, on my bike, I pedal and push FORWARD into the new normal of nature's reassuring bright colours, blue skies, and infernal virus. No one will believe this - with or without pictures.
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