I walked straight to the moors, having opted against my planned early morning start on the canal as the frosty minus two degree temperature would certainly keep the perch firmly under their duvets. Had a fun first hour at the weir pool, bringing in a 10oz stripey (I guess river fish can't afford to be as lethargic as their canal based cousins), two roach, two gudgeon (hurrah!), a 14 ounce chub and a 2.5lb brownie. 

When the bites dried, I moved to parliamentary draft, baiting up each of the 4 swims I fished for the mandatory 15 minutes before daring to drop in a hook. Over the next three hours or so, I didn't get a single bite. Sure, the flow was still very slow, but the curse the moors' fish gods cast over me persists. Eventually, I moved back to the weir for a further half hour with no more bites.

By now a slightly warmer front had moved in, and the breeze turned westerly. With a good three hours+ of sun having hit the canal before the murky clouds moved in, I figured the perch might be hungry having missed their morning meal and walked to the canal. It was a bleak afternoon. Just the two of them, and nothing else. Hardly even a bite. I stayed til dusk, the perch's preferred tea time, but nothing.

Not sure why I keep persisting with Speen Moors, but doubtless I will be back. Watch this space - if you can be bothered!

On a brighter note; bird sightings. Final score: Kingfishers 4 Cormorants 2.