Leverets, Slurry and Puffing Like a Loon.

Right, back to the office.

Grass has grown, the fringe is a little long and then a tree fell down in high wind at the weekend. Well half a tree actually, a significant chunk of an ageing horse chestnut.

The wind seems to have blown constantly since we returned from Sardinia (Did I mention we'd been away?) which has made fishing, for those who have attempted it, decidedly difficult. Coupled with low crystal clear water and fish in mid season form with gimlet eyes keenly honed in on what is presented, this time of the year is always challenging.

A delicately presented Parachute Adams would be my fly of first choice fished on a longer line than one employ in May and June.

There is some succour to be had in that fishing will often pick up in September as those fish that do spawn have a final feed before making preparations to get jiggy in autumn.

Kingfishers have had a good year and each morning we disturb at least two as Otis, Moss and myself make our way up the river. Numbers of geese also honk and parade on the stubble fields behind our house.

We have Leverets on the river bank for the first time in my memory. There were a couple of hares hopping about the water meadows for most of the winter. Lepus prefer the fields and woods higher up the side of the valley and this pair can only have ended up where they are by coming through the wood and crossing one of three foot bridges.

That, or they swam across the river.

Several anglers have commented on the colour in the fringe and the range of wild flowers in the meadows. It does seem to be a good show this year particularly hemp agrimony in the top meadow and around the fishing hut and loosestrife in the fringe.

Unfortunately blanket weed has really taken hold. An insidious filamentous algae it thrives in water rich in phosphates and smothers the good weed like ranunculus and water parsnip. Not much lives in it and it is a sign of falling water quality and rising water temperature. It's the heaviest bloom of blanket weed for some summers.

Over on the Itchen ribbon weed is having the time of its life and each weed cut I have had to cut it back only for it to grow clear of the water within a matter of weeks.

I was over there swishing my scythe earlier this week and was dismayed to see this.

The next time the movers and shakers of the chalk stream world get together to talk phosphates and nitrates over coffee and fine biscuits could they invite this guy in the tractor along.

He spent a whole morning spreading pungent slurry onto a field sloping down to a water meadow ditch that leads into the main river. Farmers used to follow the weather but apparently no more. I was keenly monitoring the radar on a day to day basis, obviously for groundwater replenishment but also because we had two tickets for the first day of the Lords Test twenty four hours hence.

Twelve hours of rain had been forecast for some days. Forecasters were proved right and we await a refund for our blank day.

Some of the slurry that this guy could have chucked on another field or applied when rain was not forecast will have ended up in the ditch and subsequently the river.

While the mood is upon us, well done The Thunderer for their investigation the other week (3rd August) into water companies and their weasely ways with regard to the aquatic environment.

Keep it up.

Following our recent trip to Amsterdam where cycling had been a particular highlight we returned home and vowed to take to the pedals again.

Not the king of the mountains mamil lycra cult that seems to have taken hold over here, but normal bikes of Dutch design that you ride in everyday clothing in an upright position on a wide comfortable saddle often with a handy cargo box in front of the handlebars.

Research over the past few weeks has revealed that such bikes can be purchased with secret engines.

I get cross when I have to pedal up hills. Give me the flat hills of my homeland, or possibly the polders, over an incline anyday.

Hills are not fun to ride up on a bike.

With this in mind we are now the proud owners of a Dutch bike with a secret engine.

An ebike they call them.

It has a large cushioned saddle, a big rechargeable battery and a button that you can push to assist with the uphill bits. For my knackered knees it's a boon and you arrive at your destination (local shop, cricket ground, fish smokery, recycling centre) in a reasonable condition and not soaked in sweat, eyes bulging and puffing like a loon.

It's a trial period. If ebikes are not for us we'll move the thing on at the end of the summer.

If ebikes are for us we'll add another electric velocipede to the fleet later this year.

But for the moment, my name is Chris de Cani and I am an ebiker.