A late bit of rain soaked the potato bed and when I next went to dig a few spuds, the first forkful turned over was full of fat juicy lob-worms.

 

Too many to ignore, I fetched a bucket from the shed, added wet shredded newspaper and collected lobs as well as potatoes.

 

The bucket stood in the shed for a couple of weeks, demanding that I think about going perch fishing.

 

Now one of the problems of being retired is that the calendar soon becomes full.

 

And when there are not pre-arranged visits etc then the number of jobs around the house, in the garden, on the computer, seem insurmountable.

 

And because I’m are retired, there's always tomorrow to go fishing (I suppose that part of the problem is that when I was working I was up, showered, and out of the door within an hour. Now it usually takes me most of the morning to get around to making some tea, cleaning my teeth, answering a few emails...).

 

Part of the problem is that there's always tomorrow, but as we all know, tomorrow never comes, so that endless leisure time that you were looking forward to somehow disappears as the weeks drift by.

 

Enough of that, a New Year's resolution (in September!).

 

Wednesday henceforth is Go Fishing Day.

 

And so Wednesday arrives, a tub of lobworms decides perch are to be the target (as does a dull cloudy day), and a remembered momentary encounter with a large stripey that nearly took a lure last year decides the venue.

 

And so I arrive at the place on the free stretch of the Medway just above Allington.

 

A worm is broken up and offered to the river as a sacrifice, before the centrepin goes onto the rod.

 

There's hardly any flow, and almost no wind, despite light rain dappling the smooth surface, so I opt for an antenna float which makes a pleasing target for my eyes.

 

The water has just the right amount of colour, green rather than the more usual dirty brown.

 

The flow is no more than you would expect from a slight undertow in a lake, and a few leaves drift by on the surface of the water, as I make a couple of more sacrifices of the broken bodies of worms to the river.

 

The float jigs enticingly, then continues on its way as I imagine tiddlers playing with the end of the worm as it passes by.

 

Another cast and the float drifts towards me again, slipping slowly beneath the surface as I strike.

 

Nothing.

 

A few more casts and the same thing happens.

 

The float disappears, but no contact is made on the strike.

 

Are the tiddlers strong but too small, or is something bigger cautiously swimming off with just the tail of the worm? Should I try a smaller bait or wait a little longer before striking?

 

On the next pass the float sinks under again, I strike and feel solid resistance.

 

There’s a big fish down there, and I’ve hooked it.

 

The fight goes on for a while, the unseen fish seems to be getting heavier and more powerful and I’m beginning to think I’ve hooked a pike.

 

The fish comes in towards the bank and I increase the pressure slightly to try and steer it clear of the unseen snags on the bottom as the water shallows, but what’s on the end of the line is having none of it.

 

Ping!

 

Pike!! (well 98% sure of that).

 

Re-tackled and re-baited (and wishing that I’d a wire trace with me), the float dips down a couple of more times resulting in a none-productive strike, before I finally make contact with a small perch.

 

Then I start getting more of the small perch and a small roach too, before again striking into something more solid.

 

Another pike? I don’t think so.

 

Anxious not to provoke too hard a fight this time, I play the fish gently for a short while, then the hook comes free (how did that happen?).

 

Hmmmm! Maybe a small jack, I’m 50% undecided.

 

And so the hours go by, with bites that fail to connect, small perch coming to hand, worms broken and sacrificed, the current quickening as the sluice opens, prompting a change to a stick float for nearly an hour, and an unsuccessful experiment with bread.

 

Looking away I fail to see the float go under, but when I lift it, it is absolutely solid.

 

Damn! a snag.

 

The hidden branch pulls back, I pull a little harder.

 

I move to reposition myself, the hook comes free and I turn back to where the line is coming out of the water just in time to see a massive perch swirl at the worm as it lifts clear of the surface.

 

The perch heads back down followed by my worm, but it doesn’t show interest a second time.

 

More time passes, then I strike into something that fights back.

 

As I play it into view, it looks like a chub. No, it’s a big roach, around a pound and a half.

 

This is more like it.

 

Then I have a bigger perch, around a pound.

 

Then the clouds clear away, the sun is on the water, the bites dry up and I’m getting hungry.

 

A very interesting session, I guess I’ll be back some other Wednesday.

 

(There seems to be potential for some real surprises along that stretch, with the right bait and method)

 

I just have to dig some more potatoes now.