Take me to the river

They said a river ran through it. They also said build it and they will come. They also said the Prodigal Son will return, and the fatted calves would be slain. More of which later. Possibly.

Meanwhile I had some unfinished business to attend to over at Farmer Giles' homestead. Barely a breath of wind but ominous skies, got to be worth a potential soaking for a couple of hours behind a waggler on the long bank. Fortunately a higher wind, imperceptible at ground level hurried this lot over without as much as a drop of precipitate. Just as well as the Commander in Chief takes a dim view of smelly wet gear drying round the house. Don't even start her on hemp being cooked in the house...

As usual I took too many just in cases as it is a pic'n'mix kind if water unless you are singularly minded. So, first things first and  standard down the edge (or just past the ledge) wafter thingy over the last of the garden centre pellets. Fishes for itself with the odd recast. Or I could eulogise over 4 wraps, lead (droppable of course) thudding down, trap set waiting for the Delk to absolutely melt. Whilst I waited for the 7 quid with battery cheapo thing from Go Somewhere Vaguely Not Inside to let out  a strangled incontinent burble I set about creating a mini mountain of tangle reducing bite inducing pva mesh bags and some lovely smelly groundbait, cunningly designed to draw in a shoal of dustbin lids. And a bait water to bring  a semblance of order to the proceedings. Whilst doing so I managed to sit on my landing net handle with the inevitable splintering sound you'd expect given my bulk. Oh bugger.

. 

Black magic

Neat, neat, neat. Ish.

I'd not even got the bin lid enticing black magic balled up before I was called into action by a tench that had picked up the wafter and been stung by the size 6 and  it took a fair while, even with cod gear to entice it into the false haven of the stink net. Insert stock caption *absolutely nailed in the bottom lip*. 

Once balled up and added to haphazardly with pellet, corn and hemp occasionally the pedal bin lids and their bastard hybrid half-siblings fair beat a path to the stink net, having been rudely interrupted sipping in 2 or 3 grains of golden goodness just dipping the dotted down float a nads under the jacuzzi froth on the otherwise still surface. All made their presence known on the responsive Drennan Waggler rod and most of them whatever their parentage were around this size, save a few blades and roachlets. Happy days indeed.

Another tench joined the party, this time on the waggler gear so took me on an impressive tour round the estate so to speak, spooking Farmer Giles' peacocks on the way. Cue comedy picture of tench and bait, the ring pull acting as the hair etc etc. I know, I should have used special Dynamite corn at £2.99  a tin, sorry chaps LIDL basics at 37p a tin for you lot. 

Last but not least what I'd really come for and qualifying firmly s a bin lid for sure. Sporting reddy purple  lower body fins which is a thing for some of Farmer Giles' dustbin lids I've noticed.

Not something I've seen on other waters.

Back to life at BureBoi Villas and the  much travelled Prodigal has returned from the Metropolis, he hopes not for long, us not so much. It took a steadfast bunch of fellows to deliver his library ahead of him. The weather, which has been mostly foul abated briefly for a colder than hoped for lunch al fresco with the whole BureBoi contingent and more sitting around the fatted calf for the first time since lockdown.

My fatted pig and cow offering

And a rather more rarefied and absolutely meat free offering from one of the Northern Powerhouse  Duo.

Rivers I hear you say, what of the rivers? Well as you can see I trimmed down the just in cases and set off yesterday, initially with the intention of finding a few shaded spots to trot or trundle through. Not  a pellet or method feeder in sight.

I arrived at the very head of the beat to see a fellow member  setting up for some fluff flinging and by the time we'd stopped mardling my time was limited so through the stile on to the broad stretch just below the road bridge, with not an inch of shade. But lots of fishy activity. It's a bit of a swing or swoosh out to the main flow past the eddy and cabbages but there is a reasonable run with some depth and if you hit it right there is usually a shoal of jewelled fishes waiting for a delicately presented bait with shirt button shotting. But it's cack-handed me and as it's not a run off the rod tip  swim it's usually two or three reds being dragged along behind a 5 AAA avon with the heavyweight bulk bunched down just above a micro swivel and a number 6 tell-tale as I can't see or manipulate a number 8 shot these days.

Anyhoo and first trot I thrilled the gathering crowd on the road bridge with a firm sideways strike, trapping the spool of the pin with my right thumb and batting the fish back up against the flow with showboating side stain as the fish thumped in the flow as only a roach can. I expertly shipped out the  3 meter (slightly cracked) landing net pole and dipped the net just as the roach turned against the reversed  eddy flow and drifted back into the not stinky net reserved for such river princes. To tumultuous applause and flashing phones (no popping flash bulbs these days) from the gathered masses, social distancing right out of the Discovery and Audi windows.

And so it continued, slowed only by the odd slipping float rubber and occasional wayward swoosh out (deffo not  a Wallis cast) and plenty to interest the gallery and walkers by. This being the biggest crowd pleaser.

Which looks a little less pure bred (fin positioning)  on the other flank. No that bothers me in tke slightest.

You know the roach have backed off a bit when the dace move in and  a stream of  these followed before my interest began to falter and was piqued by something far more sinister.

Somethings sinister to be more accurate. Given away by the white flashes on their main claws was a nest of signal crays at my feet .It was quite amusing dropping a bait in close to see how they approached it, hand lining definitely the best way to get them in at such close quarters. Next target of the Little Uns they tell me is a bucket full of these "lobsters". Just like crabbing they said on viewing the Whats App stream.. 

Once the roach and  the dace back off it's the turn of the gudgeon. This unfortunate gonk was briefly the intended afternoon tea of a small brownie that eventually let go. I did toy with putting it out round the  brickwork of the bridge, a likely perch hole indeed (as confirmed by the fluff flinger) but also judged it as not quite the done thing in front of the the dwindling gallery.