The Inglorious Sixteenth.

The lake water is as tepid as a cup of tea that has been left to stew. A cacophony of birdsong fills the air, a chorus of excitement and expectation. The air is heavy with the heady smell of spicy hempseed and the strawberry flavoured sweetcorn that has stained your fingers blood red. The oddContinue reading “The Inglorious Sixteenth.”

Beep!

16th June. Coarse fishing on our rivers begins again. Sharing my swim today was a kingfisher. He was no more than an arm stretch away. Together we watched the mists rise and the trees turn to gold. We fished side by side. Brothers of the Angle. He, a sleek flash of electric blue; me, anContinue reading “Beep!”

Lake Of The Dead.

It is a few minutes after five o’clock on the last day of July 1991. The air is still, humid. That stifling torpor of mid summer lethargy. Slowly, I am making my way along a narrow spit that juts out into the lake. I am already sweating and the sun hasn’t even begun to lightContinue reading “Lake Of The Dead.”

Ghost Trains

Along with the clocks; Sherlock and I stepped back in time and headed for the river. It’s a walk that is popular with locals, especially now during these periods of lockdown. The river soothes my brow and blesses my senses. Eyes feast on the autumnal activities of the wildlife and enjoy the fire red andContinue reading “Ghost Trains”

Winter’s Rewards

Keep it simple. Just a rod, a reel and some bread and worms for bait and a small measure of expectancy that hangs like your breath in the air. There is a strangely perverse pleasure to be had by spending a few hours on the riverbank in Winter. The coldness of the silt filled riverContinue reading “Winter’s Rewards”