Pond life

Grabbed  these on the way home from Essex Scribler's early doors Sunday. Captains is a cracker of a spot.
My camera doesn't cope well with some skies or filters for some reason. I think the sensor is in need of pro cleaning.

A butterfly.

A Speckled Wood on Mahonia, Chez Bureboy. Lots about this weekend apparently. Never seen one before.

Wivenhoe wandesign...

Refreshed from the bacchanalian excess of Essesx Scribler's 50th bash in deepest Devil Dog land I headed for the quay at Wivenhoe. A dormer town for the University and London Wivenhoe has always had a boho end and a well, everyday end.

This group is from the old Cooks shipyard area which has become part of a quayside loft living type of place.This is the wet dock of the shipyard, the finishing shed and slip for launching quite serious sized vessels is to the right.

A view from Cooks Jetty looking down to the Colne flood barrier and the Ballast Quay area of Fingringhoe. The tide is just starting to make on the flood

Across from the Rose and Crown.

These are from the Roman River/Rowhedge end:

The Colne was a major trading portal and this was once  a thriving port area. I remember it being mostly grain and timber and then infamously an entry for coal imported by Milk Snatcher to smash Scargill. It really was  a front line of the epic Miners Strike. Remember  riot police had not long grudgingly accepted wearing ID numbers and the pubs were full of Nottinghamshire, Durham and Kent accents amongst the Estuarine Essex. Donkey jacket meant no go sonny.

Now it is full on yuppiesville: this looks like it is from a faux English Disneyland and is the wet dock of Vosper Thorneycroft who did a neat line in motor torpedo boats

The old and boho enclaves remain along with  a multitude of tapas/deli chic:

Finally, a few more to add to my bottles on  a windowsill series.

And  a banana.

50 up

Unfortunately Crack magazine's tryo rock journo @bain3z or his lensman was not available to review the house debut of the (what were you called?) four strong combo flown into entertain the throngs adoring at the feet of now 50 something Essex Scribbler on the Tendring peninsula,. Some wag had posted  a slight variation on  the house number and post code of the venue much to everyone's inconvenience. 

Nervously checking the lids of the cool boxes containing the bring your own rider the Scribbler continuously damped down expectations about the forthcoming performance even more than the early doors downpour, low expectations certainly not denied by anyone unfortunate enough to have caught the sound check, especially the Svengali/McLarenesque manager and tour promoter Lady Scribbler.

At just on 10 the lights dimmed and after a tirade worthy of Hooky on his Closer tour the Essex Scribbler handed the mic to the swaggering front man and as the solid (?) rhythm unit set things off the Scribbler on geetar launched into the intro of I Wanna Be Your Dog and the pogo fest in the mosh pit erupted..sort of.

Judging by the amount of smartphones being wielded this seminal moment would spawn a hundred vines on YouTube and many embroidered tales of I was there when......

A second number later explained as being a mash up of two Sabs numbers led into a once started and then reheated Teenage Kicks. We had been told to expect 3 and a bit songs and following a long drawn out request for an Encore the band launched into a Saxon ditty, 747. Well, three of the band did as the young pretender bassist had a fit of artistic pique and  unplugged his bass and stormed off (actually he sat back

 down, as he didn't know what to play). This was the three and a bit of the set, and it became quite clear that in fact no one actually knew what to play or shout and with a splurge of feedback that was that.

All in all a fecking good night. Not sure if the Scribbler really fancied his customary 30k bike ride the next day though...

Cast, retrieve, remove weed, cast etc.

Sunday was mainly spent on the 400 mile round trip to Bognor to retrieve nearly largest Bureboy. No Essex Scribbler, I didn't enter the Bognor 10k run on a whim.Then you would have guessed that..

I just had to unwind from the drive so headed off to Captains on a still balmy evening toting a lure rod and this little beauty.

Cast, retrieve, remove weed, cast. The title describes my still lukewarm attitude to lure fishing but I figured that after 8 hours of driving the slow amble round the pond would be less pressure than feeding and hoping, hand hovering over the butt as the bubbles started.. Besides, I hadn't defrosted the hemp. And I guess because of my half heated attempt that was all it was. Cast, retrieve, remove weed, cast.

I did however discover a large percentage of the pond's mud pigs sporting in the (really shallow) shallows on the Norwich bank. And the rhodos are breaking through.

They are back

Popbably old news now but the late Saturday afternoon sky above Bureboy Villas was split asunder by wheeling, soaring screaming swifts.

The world is still turning, the seasons  are still seasonal.

Not long till the 16th

Quick sortie on the Bure, missed the best light for fish spotting but several pods of chub, some  seriously big. One large barbel and four smaller ones, some decent roach and a brownie and stacks of dace.

Oh, and heard a cuckoo and a peacock. Warmest day of the year so far and a lovely evening.

Showing off a bit

Downloaded  a free editing tool that is mostly for phones but works on a PC too. Rather taken with some of the effects:

 You've got to have some contrasts in the first place and of course a degree of composition but this was with about 4 clicks using pre-sets. Just hope it prints as well as it looks.

Oh, and it's only 3 minutes down the road from me. Rhodo's out soon.

Spawny get

Have had some hemp festering  nicely in the fridge since last weekend.(Bi-carbonate of soda really does make the seeds blacker. What a fizz if you add the bi-carb to boiling water. Must try to make some honeycomb butterscotch soon.)  Open a bag of frozen prawns, grab a handful and off to Captains which is about 3 minutes in the car.

A mild but very squally afternoon. A bit exposed on the jetty but I fancied a bream or two and  after a few drags with a rake (pond weed up and running) soon had  a prawn out over the curried hemp fished lift style. An odd bubble and the odd dip of the float indicated some breamy presence but no strikeable indications.

After a very heavy shower I was treated to a considerable  cauldron of carp activity over the hemp before a lull and a classic lift bite and this somewhat war worn bream very rough to the touch and resplendent with spawning tubercles.

I dropped another larger bream on the way in shortly after and decided to head home  satisfied with my first fish since the traditional end of season.

Charlies next time, heavier line but still fishing over hemp to try for a mud pig. They certainly like the hemp, I think something  buoyant popped up a bit of the deck but still lift style would grab their attention.

Both the canada and greylag geese have lost all their brood and gone, at least two were seen to meet a toothy end off the road bank.

Ancient and modern

Dispatched for a quick spin before lino duties along the Bure valley via Burgh and Oxnead. Smello vision surely must be coming to a blog near you soon, the monochrome yellow and background tang of rape will soon be joined by the never  forgotten but still shocking, overpowering fragrance  of broad or feed beans.

Bumped down the track for a quick peek over Plantation Bridge at Oxnead..

These two signs at Brampton , feet apart and poles apart too.

I read that the Bramtuna reference and design is after a Roman broach find. I prefer the more traditional offering below

Out and about yesterday spied an emerging blueness of a field of linseed flowers  on the way down into Morston and over to the creek that will be a glorious sight in the next week or so if duty, sun  and camera all combine..
Meanwhile a pan of hemp spiced with chili soaking so hopefully a couple of hours out tomorrow evening.