A day for tench, I decided, and reached the lakeside to make the worst of all possible discoveries. That's right: I'd left my lunch at home. Bravely, I watched my quivertip while ignoring my quivering lip and fished. For six hours I sat without a bite from a fish, or, obviously, on a succulent ham sandwich, or crispy bag of crisps. With four hours still to go, I'd eaten much of the sweetcorn and was now eyeing up the maggots when the rod leapt from the rest and in came a 4lb 8 tench. Another followed, I think it was 3lb 10, but I was almost hallucinating with hunger by this stage, seeing each Canada goose as a flying, honking, aggressive but delicious lasagne. 

A sub-par return, but good to see a few of those beautiful red eyes before the mad dash home to dive into the lunchbox.