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Romance? Or Realism?

Smitten! Having spoken to many fishing widows, it appears that it’s common knowledge that there isn’t a lot of romance in anglers’ relationships. The average angler’s idea of gallantry is to remove his waders and socks before getting into bed and there are those who keep them on, waders and all, so I’ve heard. It’s

Brownie Points

Over a bottle of port and beside water, recently, a discussion took place about how anglers can impress their womenfolk. The object of this exercise is to ensure fishing weekends away from home on a regular basis without all the hassle of begging and pleading. The subject, apparently, dominates the thoughts of male anglers everywhere

How Many Do You Know?

Over the past couple of decades I have been fortunate enough to be on the receiving end of the friendly acquaintanceship of many, and close alliance of a few, carp anglers. Without exception they are all very macho. They boast about carting mountains of gear across fields, sticking out terrible conditions, flood, frost and famine,

Anally Retentive

I showed a list of my 150 odd CDs to a fishing mate. ‘Blimey, that’s a bit anal-retentive, isn’t it?’ he said, astounded because they were listed in alphabetical order. I tried to defend my penchant for orderliness – only on paper, though, you should see my cupboards – explaining that with so many cds,

Land Ho! Mr Christian!

‘When was the last time you rowed a boat, Rose?’ The question was asked early morning after an over-nighter with some friends. ‘I don’t think I ever have,’ was my reply. ‘My Dad used to row me around the boating pool in Southend when I was a kid. There used to be a geezer with