Out With The Old....

The river season went out with a whimper, all the hopes and plans in ruins l, thanks to a flooded river. Not quite the end of the world though.

I've been waiting for some settled weather to get down to the canals in the camper, but the relentless rain and crap weather had made me put it on hold.

In the end we decided to go for a short two-three dayer. Let's see how many essential items I've left at home this time.

Bully said he was travelling light. " Just a pole and float rod ". Hmm.

He then proceeded to show me a couple of lovely Sportex ( I think ) tench rods he's bought with him and enough bait for a month. Nothing wrong with being prepared though.

First session started slowly, with Bully having a roach and me blanking. This is never good because within half hour tops I'll be bored and itching to move.

Out of nowhere the float shot under and the elastic ( yes, I'm a pole expert now ) done it's job as a decent sized, but as yet unseen fish darted about. Turned out to be a cracking rudd over the pound mark.

Next put in another. Then another and in about twenty minutes I'd had seven or eight clonking rudd, the best two going 1.07 and 1.05.

Pity the photo is totally out of focus, no idea what happened there.

Next day we tried a pre baited swim that was totally dead apart from a rogue bream.

Back for lunch, my speciality, dirty omelette. It's messy and magnificent. Onions, chorizo, cheese and piri piri sauce. Or it would have been if the sauce hadn't had six months of mould on it.

We then decided to try a different canal nearby. The wind was howling, but we found shelter. Comfortable but fishless. 

I tried another swim. Nothing.

Bully tried in the windswept hotspot and had a lovely perch of over a pound and a roach. I concentrated on gripping my pole ( oooooh matron ) as the wind tried to rip it out my hands. I wasn't enjoying it one bit. Luckily Bully suggested a move back to the GUC and we spent the evening having a bite a chuck. Nothing big but welcome anyway. 

Back to the camper and it was cheese, biscuits, crisps, nuts, Crunchies, beer and wine. It's the law when you're in da camper.

Great music was played, tales exchanged and the world was put to rights.

Bully surprised me saying he'd always wanted to go to a rave and, erm, indulge. He's almost seventy you know. I mean, he didn't want to go that evening, which was handy as we were at a farm in Warwickshire in the arse end of nowhere.

He contented himself with dancing around the farmyard, dressed only in crocs and five day old Y fronts, whistle in mouth, hands in the air like ya just don't care, shouting " Anyone in the house got some Vera's? Loooovely "

Actually he didn't. Thankfully.

Next day we woke to yet more rain.

Bully left early and I, being a hungry bastard, had to have one last go. Four nice rudd, two skimmers and half dozen silver bream in just over an hour made it worthwhile before  I made the journey back home.

We'll be back soon.