An Early Start I was woken at four in the morning by my father, it was sometime in July 1958 and I was going carp fishing for the first time. Today was the culmination of several weeks of preparation, my cousin had modified our rods by building solid glass tip sections and replacing the snake
Ice crystals keep trying to form amongst the brown and broken weed stems, then a cold blast of air sweeps across the water to lash my face, and the crystals are gone. I had arrived at the water over two biteless hours ago, warmed by the car's heater, and full of optimistic expectation. The warmth
There will come a time in the life of a fishing widow when your teenaged anglers decide that they want to go on a fishing holiday with their friends, one of whom has access to his mother's car for the week. Of course they do. It's all part of the growing up process, the beginning
I'm sure my brain cells are being destroyed by global warming, or something -possibly gin. At our final work party, a few weeks ago, Jack attempted to clear one of the remote swims. A fair sized tree had tumbled from the high banks of the country park which lies adjacent and landed in the lake.
I never expect presents from abroad, particularly from my family. They are always too busy at a water's edge to stroll round towns or villages looking for suitable gifts to take home and I don't blame them for that.When number one son returned from a carp trip in deepest France, though, I thought he had