Barrowed a few loads of wood chippings inside the gate then scout round the pond. Greylag has hatched a clutch of pike food. It seems the duck on the dam has abandoned her eggs and my nemesis the cob swan seems to have left his penn to go it alone.
Stage 2 for the first time this year. Not sure about the weed situation out there. No one has raked it and the hemp addicted swan hasn't been arse up over it. Wind is swirling and cloud alternates with sun then lashes of rain and hail. Carping chap opposite has had a tench and is freezing his nads off in trainers, joggy botttoms and hoodie but at least he is dry. Though it looks nice here it is still bitter. We are both perched on the noddy green picnic chairs that can be found at the back of each swim. Fishing platform my arse Lord Lite. I have however screwed in some more eyed hooks at the front of the staging to drop the rests into. I am kidding myself that by being active and seeking bites I am keeping warmer than carper boi but in reality I am about 15 yards out over the water on a rickety stage with no cover at all..
Following last trip's stand-off with the now absent swan I'd salvaged the tip ring from the splintered ancient Ashurst and the Drennan Waggler was back on the road. Hot glue is good stuff. Ring came off good as gold.
Second dip and out comes a coconut. Single corn on a 14 barbless again.
Some of the bream are testing the rod and some are giving up but every one has that yellow kernel at the corner of the mouth. Bites are a steady sinking and slide away, tip glowing red in the still turbid water.. By the third Lord Lite has dismissed them as snotty things in a text and you can see why...
One more bream and I am making a break for it in the rain, knowing I have to fight that poxy bolt and padlock and spread the wet tackle all over the house to get it dry.