I was in deepest Dorsetshire, somewhere in the Purbeck hills. After a week of "wild" camping the relative sophistication of campsite bogs and showers was most welcome. I won't elaborate on that.
My oldest buddy, Goozgog, was coming to visit and fish for a few days. When I say oldest I mean I've known him since we were kids, not that he's ninety years old.
I remember when I was ten and a mere beginner Goozgog was the guv'nor. He had an East Anglian Rod Co Ivan Marks float rod and Mitchell Match reel. He'd been in the Angling Times with a 6lb bream from Alresford pits and had caught a hundred fish from Ted's pond in one day. Oh yes, he was the guv'nor for sure.
Since then he's regressed so much that right now in 2021 he is a proper noddy. Where did it all go wrong ?
Anyway, who cares, he's a top bloke and great company. First session, a quick two hour trip on the rocks with light float gear at a place he'd blanked on his family holiday.
I did my usual micro management, barking out orders on what to do. Hugely irritating I'm sure but I can't help it. First cast he was in, a little corkwing wrasse, then a tompot blenny, more and more wrasse until he ended up with over forty fish.