The story
I had promised myself an early return. Then the first firefly appeared beside the reeds, followed by another, and another, until the bank looked as though someone had dropped a pocketful of tiny lamps. The yellow dinghy drifted into the audience.
I put the rod down. This was partly respect for the moment and partly because the line had become attached to my sleeve. Untangling it could wait. The lantern on the bow looked embarrassingly large compared with the little lights above the water.
By the time I reached the landing, the early return was no longer available. I wrote down a new explanation: delayed by excellent lighting. It was both true and unusually difficult for anyone to argue with.
The quiet episode still gets a place on the show.