Life of a Chalkstream: 2026

Friday 16th January 2026

Greetings!

Over the Christmas break I spent a happy 45 minutes watching an episode of a TV show that took me all the way back to my childhood, Jack Hargreaves’ Out of Town.

For anyone under fifty you might want to look away now for Out of Town was a style of TV programming that simply does not exist today, presented by Hargraves from his garden shed (in fact a studio fabrication) from the late 1960’s to the early 1980’s. He was man of many sides, qualified vet, turned journalist, turned decorated WW2 soldier, turned back to journalism and then TV presenter along with being a founder of commercial television in the form of ITV. Along the way he had three wives, two additional significant relationships and five children from three different women plus associated stepchildren.

Jack Hargreaves

In between all that he found time to make many hundreds of episodes of Out of Town that provided a window on the country life of rural Britain as the transmogrification towards an urban nation accelerated. Fishermen, farriers, horsemen, country fairs and horticulturalists were prominently featured as presenter Jack Hargreaves took the cameras around the country to explore the bucolic professions, pursuits and activities of the time, many of which were on the cusp of disappearing even back then.

It was a gentle show, as evidenced by the theme tune, which took two or three topics for each episode. Hargreaves was a man of strong opinions and clearly loved the camera, but he had a way drawing out those who he filmed, injecting humour, compassion and the sharing of information you might otherwise not know, into each segment. The series was made by Southern Television but was soon networked on a prime Sunday afternoon slot until the last episode in 1981.

It was not a fishing show per se, but there was plenty enough to keep me tuning in though I always groaned at his particular obsession with blacksmithery. Hargreaves was indeed a keen angler. In the year prior to the start of Out of Town he had a series called Gone Fishing and later collaborated with Ollie Kite on a show that took children from the city to introduce them to the countryside, and fishing in particular. He was a good fly fisher, but resiled at the thought of just fly fishing for trout, writing, “What do they know of fishing who know only one fish and one way to fish for him?" which I think are words to live by.

Anyway, that is all a very long winded introduction to the episode I watched which features Jack fishing during the Mayfly on what he calls his own water, which I assume is possibly the River Piddle* in Dorset close to where he lived. Aside from his slightly odd entomological explanations I guess what is most shocking is the fact that each and every fish caught is killed, and with a certain degree of relish to camera. That said I am pleased to see he makes a Shadow Mayfly work for him, as it is one of my bogey flies but that aside the essence of his day on the river is as exactly as you and I might enjoy it in a few months time.

You may watch the episode here and many others may be found on You Tube or on Freeview and satellite channels. *If anyone recognises the river location, please let me know.

Cartoon of the Week

I thought you might enjoy this cartoon which combines one of my favourite party games along with some of my least favourite creatures.

In beaver related news, our river keepers Charley and Si, headed off for a one day beaver course run by Natural England – I will spare you my opinion as to whether the expense and time was worthwhile other than in some box ticking sense.

However, there was a little bit of useful intelligence that came out of the day in Devon leading from a discussion on the beavers that were released in the River Wylye catchment, near Longleat in Wiltshire. It seems our furry rodents are not building any dams, content to paddle around the environs of the streams without need for any castorean engineering. The consensus was, that on small chalkstreams at least, beavers do not need the habitat a dam might create.

This is, if proven on a wider scale, great news for us. However, I do not think you will see it much promulgated by the beaver lobby for it undermines the central tenet of beaver usefulness, namely that they are creators of planet saving wetlands. No dams equals no wetlands, beavers simply becoming rather destructive tree munchers upending, for no particular purpose, the natural order of things of a riverine landscape that has served us well for centuries.

Another outbreak of SSS (Selective Statistic Syndrome)

No sooner had I written about the selective use of rainfall data for dubious climate claims in the last Newsletter than an email pinged into my Inbox linking me to an article run by the BBC on 2 January in response to a press release from Anglian Water.

Anglian Water had said further measures to conserve water may be required in 2026 if drier conditions return over winter because there was a lower than average rainfall from February to August (my italics). I am not sure in what world those seven months are a data point, unless you are setting out to skew the data. Anglian Water on their website then go on to compound the crime by cherry picking more data stating that 11 of the past 14 months had below average rainfall, presumably because 9 out of 12 does not sound alarmist enough.

The proper data, as compiled by the Environment Agency on a bi weekly basis, tells us that in the Anglian region December had 94% of average rainfall, October-December 117%, July-December 99% and the full year 81%. The last figure in itself is worrying enough, so why the Anglian PR people, clearly sufferers of SSS, cannot lead with that defeats me because you look as dumb as a bag of nails when it is lashing down outside.

The Compleat Angler

Until Harry Potter came along Izaak Walton’s The Compleat Angler was the second most reprinted book of all time, only surpassed by the Bible. That reason alone seems to me, enough for this literary homage to angling, consideration as a contender for inclusion in the list of A History of Fly Fishing in 50 Innovations.

It is remarkable that a book of such a niche nature, written in the years immediately after the Civil War, of which Walton held an important position albeit as a Royalist, retains such a grip on piscatorial culture with a new edition or translation just about every year. It is to fishing what the Mona Lisa is to art, an enigmatic representation of a time and a person we do not fully understand.

Window of the Walton Chapel in Winchester Cathedral

Walton published the book in 1653, already aged 60 years, expanding it in three further editions over the next 25 years, the final edition of his life including the Charles Cotton fly fishing section. Walton, who died at the remarkable age of 90, did not regard himself as a fly fisher when the book was first published, the fly fishing contribution by Thomas Barker, a retired cook and humourist. However, Walton did later take to fly fishing taught to both fish and tie flies by his friend and collaborator, Cotton.

The enduring fascination of the book is that it is not a how-to angle book, or really a fishing book, but rather examines the virtues of leisure and nature, fishing being a peaceful retreat from the turmoil of life. Of course, in the aftermath of the Civil War this was particularly apposite for Walton who had been on the wrong side, entrusted to care for one of the Crown Jewels which was then smuggled to the exiled Charles II.

Please keep your nominations for 50 Innovations coming. Apologies to all who have written thus far as I have been unable to reply to everyone but a particular thank you to Rupert Connell who sent this photo of ancient hooks, with and without eyes, (and a particularly unpleasant fish spear) taken in the Grand Egyptian Museum in Egypt. Next time I will publish the full list of nominations received.