The Summer of Sir Lancelot

suit, and danced excitedly with it for some minutes among the brambles.
    ‘Baetis bioculatus ,‘ he grunted, inspecting his catch with some surprise. ‘The pale watery olive.‘
    Selecting a pale watery olive from the buffet of flies on the peak of his deerstalker, he tell on his face. He inched towards the bank. The hands which had explored an army of abdomens gently parted the final tufts, and the eyes which had scanned half a million umbilicuses relaxed in watchful repose across the water. Sir Lancelot was waiting for Percival.
    Percival was the only local inhabitant for whom he had any affection. They‘d eyed each other on and off over the past few summers, but to Sir Lancelot‘s disappointment they had never met. Percival was the largest trout in the legends of the river — and believe me, those Welsh legends all come in Vistavision and Technicolor - who filled the surgeon‘s idle thoughts with the problem of his transference from the little backwater opposite to a glass case over the dining-room door. Sir Lancelot now lay on his stomach waiting excitedly for the plop like a hippopotamus leaving a bog, which would announce that Percival was coming up for his elevenses.
    The surgeon suddenly quivered all over. His face wrinkled like an animated walnut. You might have thought someone had connected him up to the mains. A yard away stood a little bird-faced man in gold-rimmed glasses, busy trying to sort out a tangle in his cast.
     

2
     
    ‘Ye gods,‘ muttered Sir Lancelot to himself, ‘what is the world coming to?‘
    He decided the beastly fellow was a straying guest of his neighbour, one of those pleasantly dotty admirals with which the Royal Navy so agreeably enriches the English countryside. The tongue would regretfully have to be substituted for the toecap.
    ‘Here, let me do that.‘
    Sir Lancelot rose with his rod from the camouflage.
    ‘Oh!‘ The little man jumped. Tm sorry. I thought you were some kind of animal.‘
    ‘The name is Spratt.‘
    ‘How do you do? I am Mr Chadwick. You seem quite an expert,‘ he added admiringly, as his fellow-fisherman deftly sorted out the coils.
    ‘Not the first time I‘ve had my fingers on a length of nylon thread,‘ Sir Lancelot returned a shade smugly. ‘I happen to be a surgeon.‘
    ‘Of course, of course.‘ The birdlike head gave a few pecks. ‘The Admiral did mention it.‘
    ‘You are staying at Trafalgar Lodge for a day or two?‘ inquired Sir Lancelot, leading up to frontier demarcation.
    Mr Chadwick gave a beaky smile.
    ‘A week?‘ demanded Sir Lancelot more shortly. ‘Even a month?‘ he added anxiously.
    The little man laughed. ‘Dear me, longer than that.‘
    Sir Lancelot glared. ‘I must say, the Admiral is extremely generous in his hospitality.‘
    ‘But the Admiral has left.‘
    ‘Left?‘
    ‘For Madeira,‘ explained the intruder mildly. ‘He seems to think the move would benefit both his chest and his income tax. I have bought the property.‘
    ‘Bought it!‘
    Sir Lancelot‘s face took on the expression of a well-established bulldog eyeing the new postman.
    ‘Yes, my business activities have become much less these days, and I wanted to pass such time as may be left to me quietly fishing. I really couldn‘t resist the property — though the Admiral drives a hard bargain, dear me, a very hard bargain indeed — when I found it included this delightful Witches‘ Pool.‘
    ‘This-‘ Sir Lancelot quivered to his rod-tip ‘-happens to be my Witches‘ Pool.‘
    ‘Oh, dear me, no,‘ countered Mr Chadwick calmly. ‘I agree that for many years you left the Admiral under that impression, but I have been through the deeds carefully and there can be no mistake. No mistake,‘ he repeated, flicking his fly across the river, ‘whatsoever.‘
    For some moments Sir Lancelot stood with his beard moving violently, but the sound had apparently broken down.
    ‘I intend to consult my solicitors,‘ he managed to get out at last.
    ‘I should be glad for your peace of mind if you would.‘ Mr Chadwick seemed unruffled by this well-flung gauntlet. ‘Though I fear they will provide you with only the same opinion.‘
    ‘Damn you, man!‘ thundered the surgeon. ‘I‘ll take you to court.‘
    The bird‘s eyes blinked mildly. ‘I trust you will not think me discourteous if I say the prospect fails to alarm me.‘
    ‘I‘ve fished this ruddy pool every summer holiday since I bought the house.‘ The flies on Sir Lancelot‘s cap