It’s baking today; Honey and I are hot and bothered. We set off for Grenofen at about 5.30pm and walk downstream towards Double Waters. We stop at the long, slim pool about half way down. It’s sheltered by beeches and oaks, in a place where the water is forced, tinkling, through a narrow channel. The rocks down which we step echo the course of the river with whorls and curlicues eroded by spates. I float through midges like electrons whizzing around the surface and feel the prickly, sticky sweat wash away. Where the sun dapples through the leaves the riverbed gleams gold and amber and resembles heaped coins to my un-goggled eyes. A dragonfly swoops overhead.