Saturday, 20 February 2016
Saturday, 13 February 2016
Bits and Pieces
Saw Bo Ningen and Savages in Cambridge on Friday. I can honestly say I've not seen anything like Bo Ningen before. The entire audience stood there with their mouths wide open as they watched twenty minutes of mayham, finishing off with a bass guitar being trashed. It was great, but twenty minutes was enough.
Savages were fanfeckingtastic. Jenny Beth is a great front women and...well see for yourself if you get the chance.
I'm enjoying the football at the moment too, especially the shower below.....
Some graffiti spotted in London last week. One in the, erm, eye, for Britain's most pompous vegan. I snigger every time I see it.
Check out the latest Alternative TV album, "Opposing Forces". Their best yet I think and they've been going since 1977. A fearsome, manacing record, not bad for a load of fifty somethings. Top work.
Lastly, a bit of "log porn" for TT. Not a phrase you've heard before I bet.
Piking later this week hopefully, if the weather forecast is right. Toodle Pip.
Savages were fanfeckingtastic. Jenny Beth is a great front women and...well see for yourself if you get the chance.
I'm enjoying the football at the moment too, especially the shower below.....
Some graffiti spotted in London last week. One in the, erm, eye, for Britain's most pompous vegan. I snigger every time I see it.
Check out the latest Alternative TV album, "Opposing Forces". Their best yet I think and they've been going since 1977. A fearsome, manacing record, not bad for a load of fifty somethings. Top work.
Lastly, a bit of "log porn" for TT. Not a phrase you've heard before I bet.
Piking later this week hopefully, if the weather forecast is right. Toodle Pip.
Tuesday, 2 February 2016
Heart Of Darkness
First day of February, it's 6 am and I'm heading east to a village into the bleak, watery centre of Fenland, for a pike session with TT and Wak. Gradually, the landscape changes, eventually morphing into a treeless sea of black fields. Deeper, deeper, into the heart of darkness.
TT's directions proved faultless and in the last few hundred yards of the journey I'm counting down the numbers to his house. I turn left into a huge gravel drive to be met, not by the expected servants and gardeners, but by TT, standing like the Lord of the Manor that he is, at his front door. The Mr Kurtz of Fenland, "I love the smell of turnips in the morning" he said, shaking my hand and we retreated inside.
Wak turned up a few minutes later and after a coffee we were on the way to the secret spot where TT advised us, "I've not blanked here this season". Hmmm, when did I last hear that ? Oh yes.....well, the less said about that the better. We parked in a farmyard, somewhere in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by fields and nothingness, the wind racing across the flatlands.
Before I'd even cast out, TT struck into a pike that had nailed his roach deadbait seconds after hitting the bottom. A minute later I had a take on sardine which I managed to miss.It then went quiet for a while. Time for food. Wak rustled up superb bacon and sausage (home made) rolls, in less than an hour (sorry), which were greedily and gratefully consumed.
Just before we re started fishing we spotted the legendary "Bastard Barry", a scruffy little mongo of a Jack Russell, always on the look out for a tear up. Today we were lucky, he came up, looked at us with his psycho eyes and wandered off.
Wooly, wooley ? No, it's wooly. My spelling gets worse.
After lunch, Wak had a couple more pike, although, as I was tucked away out of the wind , I heard his muffled cries and whooping, but didn't get to see the fish. After pulling out of a couple of fish, I finally managed to get a couple around 6-7lb, both a dead roach tight in at the margins.
A good day where we all had fish and a good chat. It's a cracking spot. Cheers TT.
TT's directions proved faultless and in the last few hundred yards of the journey I'm counting down the numbers to his house. I turn left into a huge gravel drive to be met, not by the expected servants and gardeners, but by TT, standing like the Lord of the Manor that he is, at his front door. The Mr Kurtz of Fenland, "I love the smell of turnips in the morning" he said, shaking my hand and we retreated inside.
Wak turned up a few minutes later and after a coffee we were on the way to the secret spot where TT advised us, "I've not blanked here this season". Hmmm, when did I last hear that ? Oh yes.....well, the less said about that the better. We parked in a farmyard, somewhere in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by fields and nothingness, the wind racing across the flatlands.
 |
| TT's country pile |
Just before we re started fishing we spotted the legendary "Bastard Barry", a scruffy little mongo of a Jack Russell, always on the look out for a tear up. Today we were lucky, he came up, looked at us with his psycho eyes and wandered off.
 |
| The horror, the horror, "Bastard Barry" |
After lunch, Wak had a couple more pike, although, as I was tucked away out of the wind , I heard his muffled cries and whooping, but didn't get to see the fish. After pulling out of a couple of fish, I finally managed to get a couple around 6-7lb, both a dead roach tight in at the margins.
A good day where we all had fish and a good chat. It's a cracking spot. Cheers TT.
Wednesday, 20 January 2016
He's Not Dead, He's Resting....
" In winter, I plot and plan. In spring, I move"
Henry Rollins
A long run along the Colne yesterday, ice crunching in the shade and mud squelching where the weak sun had made an impression. Very cold, absolutely calm and deadly silent. In late afternoon the sun just about managed to break through the cloud, giving me just the merest hint of the spring that will be with us in a few weeks.
Nothing further to report. Over and Out. ES.
Henry Rollins
A long run along the Colne yesterday, ice crunching in the shade and mud squelching where the weak sun had made an impression. Very cold, absolutely calm and deadly silent. In late afternoon the sun just about managed to break through the cloud, giving me just the merest hint of the spring that will be with us in a few weeks.
Nothing further to report. Over and Out. ES.
Wednesday, 30 December 2015
Dabfest at Dunwich
The first sunny day for ages and me and Lord Conc headed off to Dunwich in search of dabs. We stopped of at the cafe in Marlesford and had a very tasty, but shockingly overpriced, full English breakfast. Very enjoyable.
We marched across the shingle for ten minutes, set up and for the next six hours pulled in dozens and dozens of dabs, whiting and pouting, including many treble shots. Conc also managed a small bass.
Cracking day in the sunshine and for about two minutes at around midday Conc stopped talking. Shocked by this I turned round and he was drinking a cup of tea.
Normal service was quickly resumed when the white noise continued thoughout the afternoon.
Cracking day out and looking forward to plenty more in the new year.
We marched across the shingle for ten minutes, set up and for the next six hours pulled in dozens and dozens of dabs, whiting and pouting, including many treble shots. Conc also managed a small bass.
Cracking day in the sunshine and for about two minutes at around midday Conc stopped talking. Shocked by this I turned round and he was drinking a cup of tea.
Normal service was quickly resumed when the white noise continued thoughout the afternoon.
Cracking day out and looking forward to plenty more in the new year.
Thursday, 10 December 2015
More Dross
The winter solstice approaches. Good.
Highlights of a dull week..... Several good off road runs through the mud and across the woods and meadows, learning Slaves "Sockets" on the guitar and in doing so making an unholy ( beautifully distorted, with added feedback ) racket, the misfortune of Man Utd and their massive headed, humourless, pompous manager, receipt of a "home made" Christmas card from TT ( clever b'stard ) and catching Lord Conc of Weeley red handed in the cafe on Harwich pier.Let me tell you more....
Conc text me to say he was "catching whiting on H'Penny pier". I thought I'd pop down and give him a look. I stepped on the pier and out of the corner of my eye, caught sight of a large, bald headed man in the cafe ordering a huge breakfast. Yes, Lord Conc, watching his rods from the comfort the cafe.
One of our mates said " That's not the menu above his head, it's his order ".
Highlights of a dull week..... Several good off road runs through the mud and across the woods and meadows, learning Slaves "Sockets" on the guitar and in doing so making an unholy ( beautifully distorted, with added feedback ) racket, the misfortune of Man Utd and their massive headed, humourless, pompous manager, receipt of a "home made" Christmas card from TT ( clever b'stard ) and catching Lord Conc of Weeley red handed in the cafe on Harwich pier.Let me tell you more....
Conc text me to say he was "catching whiting on H'Penny pier". I thought I'd pop down and give him a look. I stepped on the pier and out of the corner of my eye, caught sight of a large, bald headed man in the cafe ordering a huge breakfast. Yes, Lord Conc, watching his rods from the comfort the cafe.
One of our mates said " That's not the menu above his head, it's his order ".
Thursday, 3 December 2015
What's That Noise ?
It's the sound of the bottom of a barrell being scraped in this most pathetic of blog posts. It's fecking December for god's sake. Yes, I'm bloody bored.
Inspired by TT's perhaps accidental photo of his "study", "office" or "man cave" ( call it what you will ), here's a few of my untidy, windowless retreat, where I sit on winter evenings listening to Marc Riley on 6Music, whilst poncing about on the internet, reading, etc and dreaming of the spring.
Full of fishing gear, CDs ( twenty odd by His Bobness, a similar amount by Neil Young ) and lots of other gems, books ( though fewer since the November purge ), my boy's PRS electric guitar which I have on permenant loan, bespoke framed pictures, press cuttings, a couple of photos of Cameron Diaz ( don't say why ? It's obvious ), wine, hats ( sixteen and counting ), PC, digital radio, maps, old race numbers, tide table and more fishing gear. In fact, everything I need and want. It's a bloody mess though.
Note photo at top, courtesy of Mak Baines.
Right, got to get back to watching that paint dry. Toodle pip.
Inspired by TT's perhaps accidental photo of his "study", "office" or "man cave" ( call it what you will ), here's a few of my untidy, windowless retreat, where I sit on winter evenings listening to Marc Riley on 6Music, whilst poncing about on the internet, reading, etc and dreaming of the spring.
Full of fishing gear, CDs ( twenty odd by His Bobness, a similar amount by Neil Young ) and lots of other gems, books ( though fewer since the November purge ), my boy's PRS electric guitar which I have on permenant loan, bespoke framed pictures, press cuttings, a couple of photos of Cameron Diaz ( don't say why ? It's obvious ), wine, hats ( sixteen and counting ), PC, digital radio, maps, old race numbers, tide table and more fishing gear. In fact, everything I need and want. It's a bloody mess though.
Right, got to get back to watching that paint dry. Toodle pip.
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