After a relatively dry September the river is very low. It's interesting because stones that are normally black with damp moss are browny white and the sound is a tranquil chattering, rather than the near-silent menace you get when it's really full. The sun was out. The sheep were nibbling contentedly. The crows wheeled around. All was well in Hayfella's world. Except my rasping lungs, but you can't have everything. Hopefully gettingout will chase out the last vestiges of my near-death apocalyptic evil killer flu (OK, a cold).
Smiley rating 9/10. For showing up.