Definitely, maybe

Thought I'd drown a sardine on Cyanide Straight  as a prelude to seeing if any roach showed themselves at dusk on Roach Reach.

Sardine number 1 duly halved and the tail fished down from the top of the bend and the head up from down the straight. Cobbled together some bait lifters for future use and twitched the baits and recast a few times. Far down, a roachy swirl. Yes I thought. But no the otter replied. They were working the far bank up towards me and twice the adult hauled out to crunch on a roach whilst the cubs snickered and darted about, much to the annoyance of the pair of swans. I walked back to the charabanc in a Stygian gloom and as I came out on to the road below the mill the whistles of another otter group echoed off the white washed weather boarded fascia. 

So, roach were still where a Farmers Boy and an angling National Treasure had sought them till fairly recently but in what numbers? As is sometimes the case the copse gave shelter from the brisk wind and I cleared a little gap and sunk on to ancient heavy relic of a seat into the silty bank. A really comfortable trot left to right and it looked so promising.

Three times something grabbed my double reds just as I was about to lift out to trot again, on for long enough to get me reaching for my new un-spaghetti like landing net handle and determine that what ever it was it was not a roach. 

Otherwise my maggots remained untouched. No rolls, or dimples of the smooth surface. And yes ol' whiskers was cavorting in the mill race again along with two cubs.

To cap it all off  the auto stop light showed off and the ignition warning light glowed red all the way home. Alternator I guess.

Fish to the conditions Buh

Sunday and the Stour was in it's banks but still rushing relentlessly seawards. Quick check on a lovely roadside back stretch on the way down to Devil Dog Land. Bombing through but one promising far bank slack earmarked for a quick hour on the home, funeral plans confirmed for Thursday.

And of course someone else had spotted the slack. Typical. Not that I said that (or worse eh Loafer) out loud, pleasantries exchanged and there were fish in the slack and the crease ( I've touched out the obvious fish here red x's each fish was helpfully carrying). His attack was liquidised bred in a cage feeder and yellow maggot as the red x carrying fish  were turning their nose up at reds or whites

 

I went as far up the short stretch as I was allowed and found a slow glide on the bend  A longer trot than the picture suggests with  a low branch half the way down.

I'd only packed the pin and what a good choice. 13 foot rod given the branches above, two reds (I had no yellows) on a #16 B560 under a 5 AAA balsa, with enough tip showing to hold back and for me to squint at however many turns of  the spool taking into account line diameter, atmospheric conditions, UV degradation and  moon phase the train spotters would convert to yards without a distance stick in sight. I'm getting used to the red Maxima now. 4lb bs, wiry and resilient. Which is good given my gumby fingers on their ham fists

Shallow and a bit snaggy down the inside track. the overhanging branch half  way down meant I had to let the line lay on the surface before it got there about 20 yards which meant less control from there on in. Second proper trot down and way below the half way maker the the orange tip disappeared and the low strike  resulted in  a pleasing resistance and the fish made good use of the flow and the near bank obstructions. Obviously a chub(let) and a nice Little'Un it was too

    

I didn't really get  a good rhythm going and  fish came from different parts of the glide but plenty to keep me there till the fingers succumbed to the nip in the air. Half  a dozen chub, twice as many roach and a solitary dace. Most excellent.

Nice roach to finish off. And when the pub is finished across the rod I'll start with  a pint too.

 

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Shower of shite

We went to Carrer Rudd on Sunday cos it's the FA Cup and anything could happen plus we were expecting the new manager bounce, Dean no Idea Smith and Craig Shaky Shakespeare having been shown the door. and another Webster stooge David Wagner having been shipped in.

Pint and dirty fries in the Murderers always a good way to prep for the game. Could be the start of  a new tradition.

Got to our seats just as "Kick it off" started (the oldest known football chant). Our seats were in the upper tier of the Barclay End and afforded us a commanding view of the pitch and the infamous Normandie Towers, currently the most lethal place in England for those poor unfortunates caught up in County Lines, Norwich being a major distribution hub for the various firms.

Being up in the gods had another benefit in that the eventual monsoon that had the Blackburn fans in particular scurrying for the bars didn't hit us at all.  What did get hit was the B'burn keeper's gloves as shot after shot tamely found it's way into his gloves. Straight at him every time. 20 poxy wasted corners too.  Their first half winning goal came from a poor back pass from the cart horse like Hanley and three passes into a empty net. Woeful return for Tim Krul, .sometime Dutch international keeper. Pukki is a head lolling has been who couldn't get the ball out of his feet and Head Down No End Product  Onal Hernadez (Blown away by his first visit to the Argos in the nearby shopping plaza) lived up to his name. Only Aarons seems to possess a football brain and seems in permanent despair at the no clue team he tries to get to see what he (and the whole stadium) can see what need  to be done. Big girls blouse Cantwell,  a boy of abundant talent cant get  a run out and looks to be heading of to Rangers. Quite what they will make of his 'drip' remains to be seem. Dereham Dekko my arse.

Wagner's first game in charge ended in boos. Wonder if he has a get out clause...

Dusk

A grey, mizzly sort of day but I got a fair bit done in the garden before venturing out to get  a pint of reds from Dangling Indirect as my last lot had got out of their box and everywhere in the fridge and garage. Beware the paper grab bag trick. They automatically add a paper bag for 10p to your order it seems, even if it hasn't been audibly offered. The shop, not the escaping maggots...

Anyway I had half an hour or so to kill so I took said maggots to the lock as it was stuffed with fish  judging by the muddy foot prints.

 And indeed it was. Stuffed. Dace and roach mostly. I'll take more selective hook baits next time. Lots of very small fry too. It's deep at around 10 foot  and obviously a nice refuge area when the main river is pushing through.

Merciful release

I'd said mum was very poorly Friday, in pain and mostly somewhere else but she knew that we were there. Saturday and the Community Nurse had set up and started the syringe driver before I'd set off back down again and dad, my brother and I spent a peaceful late lunch together with her as she slept finally in the peace I'd not seen seen her in for several weeks. I'm not sure if they knew how soon it might be but I set off having said my last goodbyes.

Dad said the Old Years midnight fire works from the Sailing Club woke him and perhaps her briefly and she died shortly afterwards. She had shrunk to half her size in a few short weeks. A vicious bastard is cancer.

These fireworks are for you mum. We have ours on New Years Day evening so you have had double.