The clouds very occasionally parted to show shafts of sunlight on the boats, and it was close, even occasionally looking as if a shower might come.
I was passed by cyclists and walkers as I wandered by anglers, separated by around fifty to a hundred yards; some would turn and acknowledge me and I would enquire as to their luck, and on two occasions as I passed I would look back and see a taut rod curved under the pull of the fish versus the angler, and therefore twice I was able to capture that moment as the fish was carefully coaxed towards the bank; one was a Perch, the other a Bream, and yet another a Common Carp, but it was already landed, and I was asked could I take a shot of the catch in the man's hands using his iPhone. Only too happy to oblige, I forgot to try to record the accomplishment for myself, but it was a fine strong fish that a few moments later was free to chance its luck against the fisherman another day.
I continued my stroll in search of the small glimpses of Nature's beauty as couples took their narrowboats through the locks, and I observed that in most cases I observed it was the fairer sex that worked the locks as their menfolk took the tiller and the easy life, so Chauvinism lives on, along the Grand Union Canal! I did however try to redress the balance by coming to the rescue of one lady who had sought her partner's help in vain, and was warmly thanked.
As I turned around and returned to the bridge by Slapton Lock a few desultory raindrops fell and returning home a few more splashed the screen, but it never developed into a shower.