A River Runs Through It

It is now five days since Linda and Emma went to Spain. I heard from them on Sunday evening to confirm they had got there safely, but it has been quiet since. I thought they might have rung and told me how things are going. I have had a very quiet week, hardly seeing anyone, or speaking to anyone, alone with my thoughts . . . .

Some fishing tackle arrives in the post this morning - two new fly lines and some braided loops. I spend a little time at lunchtime setting up the new reels ready for tomorrow's planned trip. This week I have been dipping into some of the more philosophical writings on fishing; John Gierach's Trout Bum and some of his other writings, Tom McGuane's The Longest Silence, William Plummer's Wishing my Father well, Mark Browning's Haunted by Water. And finally, tonight I watched the movie A River Runs Through It for the first time in a long while.

It remains a tremendously powerful and moving film for us fishermen. The last few minutes always make me extremely sad, as he fishes "the big river" on his own, all his loved ones gone. I am left with many melancholic thoughts about life, the universe and everything . . . .

Perhaps due to the issues I had trying to tie flies onto my leader the other day, I am starting to feel a older and a little decrepid. Will I be still fly fishing in my 70s and 80s? And once again, I find myself missing my father . . . .

One of the last scenes - alone on "the big river"

Rarely has a film moved me so much - even on the fifth or sixth viewing