The theme is unashamedly piscatorial – there are models of trout, pictures of trout, books about trout, a cabinet full of fly-tying gear. The veranda, cluttered with waders, boots, rods and tackle, is where the fishing day begins.

“But shan’t I look a guy?” “Not a bit of it. Jist the very kick!”

Then, without another word, he rose and left the shelter, apparently in order to light the vessel's wick with a punk from the dying campfire.

Liveliest and merriest Girl in the west; Thy lips the cherriest Lips ever pressed. Thy teeth the pearliest, By nature well set; Thy locks the curliest Locks fingered yet.