As well as Bozza sanctioned fishing we can now travel without feeling guilty. In this case conscience still clearer as the Charabanc was negotiating the motion sickness inducing fen roads that feel like riding a switchback as the tarmac snake sloughs it's third or fourth skin in undulating waves on official business. Not at night fen roads for me.
At one point the road takes an abrupt deviation over the Middle Level Main Drain. Abruptly enough to need a set of traffic lights. Some serious rudd sporting near the reeds, until a sheepish angler type scouting for swims apologetically shrugged as he succumbed to ducks and drakes with his Little Un.
It seems that you need to be Lubed up round these parts. And you get thanked for leaving litter.
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