I did venture to the river yesterday and the snow did lay crisp and even, apart from mole tumuli and the scuffings of walker's feet. The mill pool was fairly benevolent though not quite as calm as the proverbial.
I trotted for a bit but found using a catapult almost impossible due to the weakness and warning pains in my left hand so searched a while with worms on the tip but surprisingly with no interest at all.
I moved down to a bend where I had caught my first ever Norfolk chub, nearly a pound bigger than any chub I'd caught from the Stour and Colne before my exile. 4lb 12oz on meat on a day of horizontal rain and I couldn't believe the stabbing round of the screw-in quiver tip. I'd rested my rod against a fence post long since gone due to the severity of the down stream gale and it was this that stopped the old Sportex 1.25lb tc Avon following the tip round into the river as the chub tore off. Thinking back it must have been over 20 years ago, nearly to the day. Today chosen as the near bank run was close enough for sparse loose feed.