We have had miserable northerlies for what seems an age. The sky is constantly grey and often just revelling in sending down mean, sharp showers and almost imperceptible but maddening spots and spits. It's warmer out than in though and I have to watch the Commander in Chief like a hawk in case the heater gets turned on. That is before EON double my direct debit so they can charge up to the ceiling price. Bastards. And it's dark at 20.05 tonight.
Anyway, I'm still after a bream or tench or two before hitting the rivers. One trip this weekend, and it was a case of might have beens really. Should have gone double flatbed feeders but went with the waggler, lost one unseen unstoppable to a hook pull ( I'd say pike as it was relentless rather than a flat rodder) then two tench, one after all the hard work was done and the hook pinged out at the net, and one after a last minute dash into the pads to my right.
Of course the barrys stayed on to stink up the stink net even more and at least there is token resistance on the waggler rod and 3 lb line till they do that John Wilson swimmers roll and flop onto their side.