Van in for MOT and I'd left all my tackle in it too. Cobbled together some bits and pieces, including a ridiculous landing net with a one foot handle and, most importantly, a bucket of mash.
Travelling ultra light I walked the two or so miles to the river, along quiet footpaths, away from the madding crowd.
Half dozen swims were baited with a generous helping of mash and first cast in a "banker" swim the tip dropped back. Missed of course.
For the next couple of hours I had bites in almost all the swims, some hit and some missed, ending up with five decent
chub to around 4lb.
At dusk, the rain clouds gathered, so I packed up and headed back through the mud and puddles, with the sound of geese and wildfowl calling from the floodplains.
On it Boi. poor bastard MOT'ing that health hazzard
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