Concluding a short ride with my daughter – we’d been practicing short steep ascents/descents – we happened across this view on the river. The sun was descending warmly. Flies danced in small thermal patches. The occasional splash alluded to greedy trout. Our bikes lay on their sides gazing skyward, whilst Evelyn skipped from rock to rock. It could have been 1955, or 1965, or 1975, or 1985, or 1995, or 2005. But it was 2015. In the apparent age of technological obsession it seems, Turner-esque river banks still provide idyllic retreats from modern living, right in the heart of your neighbourhood.