A Week in the Life.

" A man is a success if he gets up in the morning and gets to bed at night, and in between he does what he wants to do "

Bob Dylan

His Bobness yet again hits the nail right on the head.

Monday I was back perching on two small waters, the first produced a re capture ( from last week ). I hate recaptures, so immediately headed off to the other lake, where I spend the afternoon casting livebaits in trees, hooking size 18 barbed hooks in my arse and generally fishing like a knob.

Next day the van was headed in to deepest Suffolk, trundling down tiny lanes to a lake best described as a throwback to a lost world. 

A maze of tiny bays, sunken trees, decaying lilly beds and the banks strewn with beds of water mint. Silent apart from the wildlife, it really has the feel of a place from a bygone age.

I'd gone along to catch up with The Chubmeister General, who had been on a mission to catch an eel, or failing that a carp, from this mysterious lake. Catch up we did, chatting shite all day until the autumn darkness descended and I sloped off back to the comfort of the van, leaving TCG holed up in his bivvy

The lake refused to give up any of its residents and after a morning coffee I headed off an hour north, for a recce on a new section of river, where whispers of big chub and perch had piqued my interest.

What a beautiful river it is, overgrown banks, patches of gravel and ranunculous writhing lazily in the strong flow. As an added bonus, it looked practically unfished.

I walked the banks all afternoon trying in umpteen swims, with just a single bite to show for my efforts. No matter, I'm confident it's worth a proper go this coming winter.

I parked up overnight at a riverside pub, free if you eat in the restaurant. 

Why, I don't mind if I do. £11.00 for a roast beef dinner, bloody beautiful. Perfect.

Back home the following morning, I did a quick gardening job for a neighbour, watched a pair of ravens soaring on a thermal way above the house, made some double hooks for perching and then farted about painting some floats.

Friday morning I made the dreaded trip in to town for a birthday present for S. As usual, I'd left it until the last possible moment.

I was ruthlessly efficient, in and out like Flynn, clutching my prize that ensures my bollocks remain in tact for another year.

Brilliant end to the week with a great gig at the Steamboat watching the mighty East Town Pirates and Attila The Stockbroker with his band Barnstormer 1649. A rowdy, beery ocassion as usual at this fantastic venue.

Paddle your own canoe folks.