Dontcha just love the give up and flop in the net surrender monkey snotters. Net is minging now. Lost a tench which are just as bad at snotting everything up but fight hard as feck.
Plenty of dragonflies and damselflies about.
Less work, more fishing.
Dontcha just love the give up and flop in the net surrender monkey snotters. Net is minging now. Lost a tench which are just as bad at snotting everything up but fight hard as feck.
Plenty of dragonflies and damselflies about.
Heat too much so wasn't till post tea chores done that I headed to the Soay meadow with a few left over reds and the 15 footer. Funny how they won't fed past a certain point down the glide. Enough did above the point of no bites to make it fun.
Competing sounds of the water rushing though the mill, Soay sheep, screaming swifts and the churches of Buxton and Lamas having a ring-off down the valley. Bliss.
I went to the cupboard, and rather like Old Mawther Hubbard found that it was bare. Not a crumb of the Source left. Well, apart from a few hookers I' d been kept dampish in a tub. Off up the city then to use my Go Outdoors discount on a few bits. Dropped in on the top of the tidal fleshpot, just some hippos (sorry, wild swimmers) so went above the weir to clear a couple of likely spots then back to the charabanc to head home to load up the tackle and a gaggle of kayakers had rocked up. Bugger
Got home and headed the short hop to Golden Pond instead. New Source on one rod and 3 grains of golden goodness on the other. Next to the baitrunner and method feeder the push stop must be the most useful development for ages. Game changer.
Late Sunday pass out, bright but windy. Got the 15 footer tackled up for trotting. first swim above Noddy Train Bridge and the scum filled right hand feeder, alive with tiny but perfect roach, dace and chub. Shiny as new pins but but no sport.
Crossed the footbridge and tried the line along the far bush below the scum filled feeder, better stamp of fish and even the odd gudgeon.
1st day, plans to hit the fleshpots of the upper tidal before the circus descended, 3.30 wake up, bun dat. Chores then earn my corn "checking yer permit mister", just how many signs have you walked past before resting your rod bag on that sign? No, you can't carry on now you are here. Melts.
Which left me an hour or so to trot down the mill run off in the shade of the poplars. Simple, uncomplicated bliss. First trot a dace, one of many.
Golden Pond has been good to me last couple of trips, the rhodos and flag iris are going over now but it is still a picture.
"She pulled out a gun, I saw the sparks, messed up the suit he'd bought from Marks."
It's a bit early in the year for countless 'my perfect cheese paste recipes' designed purely to wind up The Loafer so whilst house bound due to Cartrouble Part 2 and taking a decorating break lunch I was minded to share 'my perfect scrambled eggs method'. 3 eggs, milk or preferably cream, salt (pepper after as it makes them grey if added first) and a small frying pan with melted butter. Pour in whisked mixture and slow heat, whisk again gently, turn off pan and slide onto heavily buttered granary toast, two rounds, sliced in triangles. Maldon sea salt and pepper. If you can't simply wipe pan clean with a paper towel you've fecked it up. Absolutely no dried egg should be left in the pan. No sauce required and definitely no baked beans. Smoked bacon or sausages with brown sauce or smoked salmon are ok but really it's a dish in its own right.
So much for a week and a bit of no work hedonism. Car MOT early to be sure of having it for the river season. Failed, perhaps ready by the end of the week and not cheap. As Stuart Goddard wrote-Cartrouble. Saw this on Saturday whilst queuing for Lydon . What irony. Might go as its local and on the train again but it'll be all the post Dirk Wears White Sox crap so perhaps not .
Up the City to see PIL play Epic Studio courtesy of eldest son Global Head. Getting on the train was a squeeze with standing room only all the way to Norwich. Must have been the heat bringing everyone out for an evening out. Lost count of the pissed people at 7pm. Best was the bloke who walked face first into a pole, spinning round it in a daze. Met up briefly with the Global Head for a pint before the queue snaking down Magdalen Street.
I've done it. I've retired. Nearly 43 years of service and I'm taking my slice, having a long 'week' off and going back for 3 days a week for now to feed the hungry mouths at Bure Boy Villas. Buggered if I'm working till I'm 67 though. Took a slow drive home.