The Sourcerer's Apprentice

Got the green light to load the charabanc  and you never say no to those, even if you know there may be  a catch somewhere...I nearly turned back when I remembered the Source 12mm lounging in the bait fridge but figured that would be counter productive.

Anyhoo, it was 7.45 before I'd laid the picnic rug with some cheapo pellets, re-dampened the Spicy Sausage and Krill mix, impaled a Big Fish buster on the hair and swung out on to that lovingly laid picnic rug. Bobbin on, sit down and 7.46 I was into a fish. Determined and powerful and a flash of zip scales. Not once was the balanced 1.5 tc rod and 6 lb bs Sensor outgunned and into the 42 inch onion bag. Christ that's heavy I thought as I hoisted the contents up and into the pre-wetted and obligatory cradle. Surprisingly small fins apart from the tail and with spawning wounds that needed some TLC. 19.02 on the Korum digital scales.

I didn't want to phaff about with the gurn and bear it, a platform is a likely location for involuntary camera dunking and I am not blessed with the staring lovingly at the tail (never at the lens and never smile) features or the patience so mat and puckered up vent shots are all you're going to get.

The next fish, a very green tench with dark fins went straight back (much to my instant regret) such was my haste to get a carefully moulded feeder full back out on the dance floor. Yup, cliche city tonight. I made sure the next tench got its moment of fame though. And the bait survived for another foray onto that non distanced free for all banqueting area. 

Some little 'uns were hanging about at the wallflower edges waiting for scraps of comfort food and sloppy seconds .

But sure as eggs is eggs mum and dad are always keen to barge in and be the main event, especially if it's an all you can eat affair. Snouts in the trough are us.

The church clock had struck nine and the peacock was calling as I made one last cast. Strange red edge to the  pectoral fin and some sass about it in the deep margin

They'd have kept coming if I'd kept going. But I was late and an accusing full glass of red was waiting as the Commander in Chief was down to her dregs. A nice understated oak finish (the wine, not CIC's self tan) which is a sad rarity these days. Vera was on, the one where it ends: "He was alive when he went into the water pet. But you just had to ties his shoelaces together.... "

Blogger's libation. 69p (LIDL) for the scratchings to accompany the Fathers Day grog.