The midges were hovering in large, dark swarms over the river. Occasionally a hungry fish broke its surface, the ripples echoing across the glassy waters. Silence prevailed save for the occasional blackbird. I had Castleroe Wood to myself. That was what I had hoped for. That was what I had.
I ambled upstream along the riverbank, looking idly at the empty moorings on the opposite bank. Finding a bench overlooking the river I sat down to read a few pages of the book I had brought along with me, a rather weighty tome dealing with pre-1914 Europe. I managed to concentrate my way through ten pages before my concentration began to wane. A pleasant day. The healing solicitude of silent solitude.