Landmark
Kevin Parr fishes a favourite swim for roach, dace, chub and perch, under the scrutiny of a ravenous pike, and is distracted from his task by the tea-making genius of Chris Yates.
Dorset Stour
Parr’s Diary – February 2018 – Beastly Easterlies
Six winters have passed since the last spell of prolonged cold weather in this part of the south. We have had odd sprinkles of snow during that time, and one decent covering, but Dorset has remained fairly balmy for the most part. As a result, the recent blast of Siberian winter came as quite a …
Parr’s Diary – February 2018 – Beastly Easterlies Read More »
Parr’s Diary – September 2017. Back on the Dorset Stour…
Growing up among the chalk stream sparkle of central Hampshire left me with a slightly distorted view of river life. The Itchen and her tributaries changed little across the seasons. They would invariably run clear, the weedbeds seemed rarely to thin and the trout could always be found in their usual lies. On rare occasions …
Parr’s Diary – September 2017. Back on the Dorset Stour… Read More »
Parr’s Diary – December 2016
Festive television is invariably underwhelming. Full of re-makes, repeats and Christmas ‘specials’ that make you smile, but only because the excess of port and stilton has left you mildly stupefied. I did watch Charlie Brooker’s 2016 Wipe last evening though, and it certainly didn’t disappoint. Mind you, the past twelve months have delivered plenty of …
Parr’s Diary – November 2016
I went for a walk yesterday afternoon on my local patch. It was only a few degrees above freezing, but I had in mind that the sunshine might have tempted an adder out. I may have been proved right, but left it half an hour too late. The south facing bank where I had hoped …
Parr’s Diary – October 2016
I have always had a peculiar relationship with the Dorset Stour. A couple of visits as a child and teenager offered me a river full of mystery and intrigue, but after a long period of barbel obsession (that had a distinct chalk stream edge) I struggled to understand the Stour when I returned to her …