Forty degree heat, Plagues of Insects and a New Pharaoh

And so it came to pass that a plague of peacocks, admirals and fritillaries was cast down, covering the face of the earth.

Damsel flies too,

but they have a more Arthurian feel about them and don't fit in with the current biblical tone of the piece.

Yes we are butterfly rich.

The aforementioned trio are joined by many meadow browns and much more besides.

The place is alive with the things along with several different species of damsel fly. Walk along the bank and the neighbouring piece of fen or meadow erupts with colourful winged insects. There are also several broods of very young pheasant chicks that scurry into the long stuff as we approach.

It is very hot and while I make my way up the bank in the morning Moss and Otis mostly chart a route up the middle of the river. For much of the two days of clearing down at the end of the weed cut, Moss ran up and down the river with weed in his mouth

while Otis adopted a static position midstream and had to be cleared of cut weed every few minutes.

For three days it has been very hot.

Tuesday saw a high of 39.2 Celsius under the parasol in our garden and I watered the greenhouse in just my shorts.

Thursday peaked at 40. 8 Celsius and I briefly considered watering the pots in one garment less.

Heathrow makes great play of its "record temperatures" which often seem to be several degrees down on measurements taken in our sheltered sun trap of a garden.

I've no reason to doubt the clever digital machine.

If GCSE physics serves, measuring air temperature is a fairly simple science that invokes the power of seaweed and pine cones so in your face Heathrow airport and Cambridge Botanists,

our back garden was the hottest place in these Isles the other day.

Or was the seaweed pine cone thing about rainfall?

No matter, we've had a little bit of that too. Spectacular thunderstorms in the night triggered by the heat. The showers have been fairly intense and have done nothing for the river but my broad beans did swell a little.

It will come as no surprise that fishing in these conditions can be a tricky business particularly from late morning to early evening.






There is fly about, but in bright light and low clear water fish get a very good look at what is a natural offering and what is an artificial.

Fish have been caught, including some considerable lumps,but one fish in the bag at this time of the year is the equivalent of four in late May.

Fish are at their most active first thing in the morning and last thing at night, but most lie dogo on the bed of the river for much of the day.

If you are on the river in the afternoon, linger over lunch, perhaps have a zizz and conserve energy for coming off the final bend in the manner of Coe and Ovett to take the line later in the evening.

We also have a few of these. Small pods of grayling around four inches in length. Two year old fish at a guess when spawning must have gone well. It certainly didn't three years ago as there is a dearth of fish in that age group.

The local news wallahs have just reported that our local water company and command centre central are warning of the possible implementation of restrictions on water use.

Come on the Weasels and Dunderheads, this was all too obvious at the start of summer.

Which is probably why they were petitioned in April by twenty trusts and organisations over concerns about water supply following a sixth dry winter in succession.

To recap, The Weasel's response fifty days ago was

"We do not expect hosepipe bans this summer"

The Dunderheads chipped in with:

"We are taking action to minimise the environmental impacts should we have a repeat of last summer's weather"

Once again,

Weasels! Dunderheads! Numbskulls!

Zero replenishment of the aquifers in the past fifty days was not the most difficult prediction to make.

Our aquifers and groundwater deserve better than shady dividend obsessed private water companies and an underfunded environmental protection (because that's what their remit is) agency.

For the allegorical among you it's a Sher Khan and Mowgli situation. With Sher Khan the private water companies, Mowgli the beleaguered Environment Agency and Man's Great Fire the Groundwater of the South East of England.

Who will be our Baloo?

Come on Baggy, get with the beat.

Once again, our precious groundwater supply is in the hands of Weasels, Dunderheads and Numbskulls.

And on that note.

The age of the Johnson is upon us and this particular member has been picking his team.

The Pharaoh has banished the cove Gove to the plains of Lancaster and his place as Environment Secretary filled by a fruit farmer from Cornwall. The newly appointed Viceroy for India, formerly the right honourable member for the 19th century has called for a return to imperial measurement. Jake has also distributed a list of words that he doesn't want people to use, called for the return of 2 star petrol and for all members to promote the many uses of a dead whale.

Prig was not on the list,

and if you're reading this Jake, the temperatures listed earlier in the piece come in at around four pecks and a bushel shy of a perch.