THERE is a secret place on the Severn where I can often be found on a sunny day, merrily scribbling and observing various aquatic dramas unfold in the shallows beneath my feet.

Gudgeon and minnows quite happily co-exist, riding the current, pausing to prod the pebbles in the hope of finding a snack. But then comes along a small shoal of perch, bandit fish in their stripey vests, spoiling for a fight like Teddy boys in a 1950s dance hall.

Perch are the ultimate spoilsports – always looking for trouble and ready for a rumble. They have attitude, man.

After a while, I’ll pack up my rucksack and wander over to the dock, where I will marvel at the giant carp cruising just below the surface. More often than not, I will share my amazement with an equally fascinated bystander who also cannot believe that fish of such size could possibly live in the Severn.

If I’m really fortunate, there will be a pike lurking in the shadows somewhere, that merciless hitman of the stream, a creature that has mesmerised me with his pitiless gaze ever since I caught his killer eye so many years ago.

And so along to Diglis weir, where there might even be a salmon taking a leap of Olympian proportions, his arched form hanging in mid-air for that magical, silver second.

Such were the joys of summer… a time of becalmed innocence that has ended all too soon.

􀁥THE call of the scrap dealer has become a familiar feature in my street.

I had no idea there was so much spare metal about. That is, until the water level on the Severn dropped so low this summer that it afforded a rare glimpse of the river bed.

And what a depressing sight came into view. Old bikes, pushchairs, lengths of scaffolding and countless supermarket trolleys came into view, all covered in flowing tresses of weed like ancient shipwrecks.

A few weeks ago, I stumbled across what may be the answer to this problem. Walking along the canal en route to the Arboretum, I saw three men with grappling hooks, pulling all manner of metallic items from the water.

They were presumably scrap collectors with a keen eye for a bit of easy profit.

I think it’s about time these people were let loose on the Severn. Wouldn’t it be nice to see a clean, rock-strewn bottom rather than yet another example of our chronically wasteful lifestyles?