Grayling, the fourth game fish.
A bad day's fishing beats a good day's writing

Philip meets a familiar character:

Just before dawn a Waterborne spirit approaches me. I feel a strong familiarity and a voice echoes within me:
“Who are you?”

“I am Harry.”

“Grandfather?”

“Yes.”

“You are a long way from our village.”
“Water knows all that is out of time and our meeting was ordained. I was required to come here to meet you.”

“Why are you Waterborne?”

“Who accompanied you to the water as a child? You and your father. Remember the willowy margins of Broomfleet ponds – and Flamborough ? We had some hairy, scary boat-rides, eh? Chasing after the cod and the mackerel. Jim is somewhere, and Ernie – and he has his sight again, much as we all do. I was so pleased when you and your brother kept my heavy old Greenheart rod for such a long time after I had gone. I sensed it every time it connected with the river.

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Philip is a slow learner! He gets himself into more trouble and has to be rescued again:

The morning finds me in unfamiliar territory. Well beyond my old club beats, where the river is widened by the collected tributes of smaller streams. The water is less clear and the rocks and stones have been replaced by silt covered mounds and dense slimy weeds growing on industrial debris.

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When Alex joins the Waterborne community in the Med she meets others. The book is not all death and adventure and I just want to share this little bit of fun:

The Waterborne community of the Mediterranean absorbed Alexandra’s attention for days, then weeks, then months. She met new spirits almost daily.

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I’m just going for a Euphemism.

Euphemisms were invented to hide unpleasant truths or socially unacceptable vocabulary. By shrouding the telling in a gentle cloak, we disguise that which we feel we must utter but would rather ignore. They also can be useful when trying to hide vulgarity or sexual references, especially for the closet prude or when in mixed company. My favourite is “He told me to have sex and travel.”
One concept which has probably as many euphemisms as sex and bodily functions is death:

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A comment from 'jak' has prompted me to make this report:

As I publish each part of my novel in the blog I have no idea about the sequence in which the parts will appear in the book! It is a matter which will be sorted when all the parts are written. All I know is that each of the character's stories carries them gradually closer to each other; although not always smoothly. I use timeshift and flashback type techniques so a bit of final editing will be needed to make it all work in harmony.

The story, briefly, is about two lovers who are seperated when the woman drowns in the Med. A year later the grieving man commits suicide by drowning in a Yorkshire river. They both become 'Waterborne' spirits and the meat of the story is in their adventures as they roam the seas and rivers looking for each other.
Will they meet in the end?
What do you think!

As Philip explores the rivers from within he enters a steep learning curve (no, I do not mean a waterfall!). The apparently benign element holds dangers!................

A stream flows in from the left. I have fished on this confluence; always a productive place. I know this stream. I fished it with a short rod and light line, deep between the overhanging trees in the shady pools on hot summer days. The trout I caught here were generally juvenile, hungry and suicidal. Just occasionally I would be surprised by a heave on the line of a real monster.

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Here Philip starts his river journey and witnesses a fly fisherman from a fishes perspective.
I wonder if this bit of self indulgence would interfere too much with the flow of the narrative.
All comments welcome.

Fool. The water is your carriage, why do you worry about moving?
‘Go with the flow’ has a new meaning - a literal meaning. The trees and the reeds wave to me as the water weed waved to me in the other life.
There, on the bank, is an angler. How delightful. I will stop and watch him.

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Cormorants

Six months after his tragic loss Philip, and Trevor the river-keeper, walked by the pale brown reeds along the side of the chalk-stream in the sharp February morning air; their boots soaked with dew. Each had a small-bore shotgun under an arm; the barrels hanging safely away from the firing mechanism, but still the brassy discs of two cartridges sat ready in the breach of each gun. The quarry for the day, as on many other occasions, were the cormorants.

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The next part of "The Waterborne" is about to appear. I have struggled with it.
I dislike anthropomorphism intensely. Little bunnies in waistcoats make me cringe.

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Now it shouldn't, should it?
Amateurs.