In which BureBoi catches a fish

My poor old mum is really not well at all now so it's down the A140 as often as I can and I really did need a head clear when I left so dropped off at the Suffolk Stour on the way home to do just that and it really helped to have a mardle with the Loafer as I lay waste to the hungry chub population of the Stour.......

A hint of light breaking out of what had been a leaden, wet sky and in sheltered spots out of  a fierce wind quite mild  

I had fish in each of the three swims in which I cast my Warby Blue folded over a #6 Super Specialist but only connected with one (much to the Loafer's surprise when I did),  a lovely drop back and slackliner and I had to give line as it headed out in to the main flow. The Loafer made a bit of  a hash with the spaghetti like net handle and micro pan net but I skilfully guided it in to save his blushes...

It was a cracking 'lil chub of (the Loafer guessed it spot on ) 3lb 6oz nicely hooked in the top lip.

I have been instructed to buy a proper net handle btw.

Hoar and doors

This post was supposed to have featured a few poached pet chub from the Loafer's best swims. As it was he sneaked up and tied my line behind my spool and round the rod handle whilst I was baiting up a few spots and declared the trip ending tangle as a direct consequence of having too small rod eyes (too small for him to be able to see to thread the line through, nothing to do with the sharp frost).

Just as well as I took lots of pictures of Dedham and it's doors then.

It's a very picturesque village, more Jon Boi than the London set though as its quite Essexish. Which is a good thing. Friendly folk generally. 

Had been  a bit parky on the way down, -5C most of the way. Pretty though. 

Not having a breakfast with this flat white didn't go down too well, cutlery, napkins and menu whisked away whilst the chip and pin reader was thrust in my mush before the saucer had hit the table. Weird buggers in South Norfolk.

Hick from the sticks

Hugh Cornwell was back in town (or should I say City, cos it is a fine one) so I jumped on a train and wended my way over the Novi Sad  Friendship Bridge to a seemingly shut up Adrian Flux Waterfront. Loitering in the shadows were a few white haired old uns so I knew I was in the right place and eventually the roller door was rolled and we patiently filed in depositing our zimmers in the zimmer  park and I headed off to get my first Stella, and found a comfy spot leaning on the stage front railings, a handy place to stash my cosy scarf and big coat whilst the place slowly filled. Pre gig music plenty of decent dub.

He's an old bugger, Hugh Cornwell, 73 in fact but then most of us weren't far off. Stuck in Daily Mail Land I liked.  

He came back out for some Stranglers classics like Peaches and Nice and Sleazy and stuff I didn't know but after my 3rd Stella I had to leg it for the last train home at 10.45pm  or face a  16 mile walk or 50 quid for a taxi.  I like a train ride so it worked out well for this hick from the sticks and just 10 mins walk from the station home to boot. That's Norwich Thorpe Station in the pic btw, not Bureboyville station.

Two tides

Dead high water on the River Great Ouse looking over to West Lynn as I took my statutory 30 mins break on Tuesday.

The Customs House reflected in the Purfleet.

Cockles and shrimp are the main catch from the Wash these days.

 

Palm Paper upstream

 

An unexpected hour or so on another tidal into dusk  today, though the tidal influence up here on the top of the tidal  River Bure is minimal. I say unexpected, the outside tap got stuck wide open  and was pissing water all down the wall and the dodgy damp course and although I found an isolator this meant most of downstairs had no water so a very expensive fix was booked for before 2pm, then pushed back to Monday morning.  Fortunately brother in law came good with finding  a local mates rates  with a spare tap in the van and £20 quid job done. 10% minimum ex vat  of what I was going to be charged. So river bound it was. 

Double reds on  a #16 and a 5AAA balsa over depth and held back hard in the strong back eddy. Classic off the rod tip pin fishing and it was a joy as the line fed off smoothly with several nice dace, a brace of roach and a chublet, my first tidal chub I believe. I was glad of the neoprene fingerless donned as dusk fell, and it'll be the last tine this winter I go liner-less in the moon boots as I thought frost bite had set in.

Been in the wars

Chublet

Half a brace

And a friendly visitor.

Sixty. How the feck did that happen?

I really am an old bugger now. 60 on Saturday. Quite a few of us went away to deepest North Norfolkcestershire to celebrate and apart from unforseen illnesses and a backwashing dishwasher it was a cracking time and all down to the Commander in Chief.

I think that these are those who walk among us. I'm shrinking it seems.

And a lovely meal in the Saracen's Head, often known as Lost in Norfolk, as it's in the arse end of nowhere.