Down by the Riverside.

Walking the dogs this morning, we stopped at this beach to throw stones into the river. This will keep the two collies amused for hours while Merlin just watches with a disdainful air, I suppose he feels that his royal connections leave him above such puppyish diversions.

The over hanging branches belong, I think, to a beech tree, there are a lot of them about; I really ought to make sure, it shouldn't take too much effort.

This stretch of water is rather attractive, particularly with the autumn colours, without being too grandiose; it is also a bit of an enigma. Too the right, the water flows through open meadowland, suddenly it strikes this outcrop of hard rock - and completely undeterred - flows through the middle of it to emerge into low-lying land on the left hand side. Rivers are supposed to flow round obstacles, not through them. The River Avon, in Bristol, has the same lack of respect for the laws of physics, choosing to carve its way through the rocks that form the Avon Gorge rather than to take the line of least resistance. I've been trying to find the answer to this conundrum for the last sixty years, but all to no avail.