This has absolutely nothing to do with fishing, but I suppose that it's symptomatic of advancing years when the icons of ones youth (and advancing middle age) suddenly drop off the perch.  One of my passions is music.  In many forms it has featured in my life providing a sound track to many ups and downs and it's rare that I never have some tune playing in my head whatever I happen to be doing.  My tastes are broad, from Beethoven to the Pink Floyd via roots blues such as that played by Robert Johnson.  It's the Floyd that sparked this little sidetrack as the sad news has emerged that their keyboard played Richard Wright died suddenly yesterday.  He was the gentle quiet one with a demeanour (and appearance) somewhat reminiscent of a cross between John Major and John le Mesurier.  He was self taught and achieved a sound that became instantly recognisable ranging from full on rock to almost spiritual and ethereal pieces that I often find playing in my head as I stand by the Tarn.  The vision I carry with me is of him playing at Knebworth in the mid1970's as the sun set on a glorious summer day and the Floyd's great anthem to their former leader Syd Barrett swelled out across 50 thousand people.  Indeed Richard I 'Wish You were Here'.

Turning to the point of this blog we have seen little rain over the past few days.  I fact it's the driest it has been for weeks.  As a result the river is falling away now and is well past its best for salmon fishing.  The final weeks of the trout season should be OK as the water is not down on its bones and there are plenty of fish about which are still rising to late hatching flies when the east wind drops.

I'm off now to meet a young lady from Natural England to discuss our cormorant problem.  More on this later.

Ian