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A session of mixed emotions. Firstly, shock. I had the unanticipated delight of scraping the thick ice from the car windscreen at 5am. I'm sure our neighbours enjoyed this nearly as much as I did. Arrived at a heavily frosted Willows with the temp gauge showing it was exactly 16 degrees below the day's anticipated high of 16 degrees. Surprise next. Anticipating the cold would have kept the fish firmly under their duvets in the lakebed, I kept it down to single corn, size 14 hook, 5lb line and prepared to wait is out, but on my first cast the float shot under. It was a good fight considering the Common was only 2lb 4, and after 10 minutes I'd probably already exceeded my total weight caught in 9 hours of roach fishing yesterday. Then came adrenaline. 10 minutes later, the float dipped again and something made off like a rocket, leaving me with little option but hold on and let the clutch scream at me. Whatever it was broke the surface in the lily bed in the middle of the lake some 30 or so yards away and dropped anchor. Thinking there would only be one sore-mouthed winner of a tug of war, I kept steady pressure on and prepared to wait, until after 30 seconds or so it shook its head in disgust and came back into open water. Phew. I gained back some yards and had it easing back my way until it saw me, and decided to give it a go heading left. I grinned, as this was again open water. It stole another 20 yards or so of line, before side strain stopped its little game and I started drawing it in. The next emotion was horror as suddenly the end third of my rod detached from the rest of it and started sliding down the taut line towards the fish. I couldn't believe I'd been so stupid as to not push the ferrules in properly, and now faced the challenge of landing both fish and rod. I can only guess that the fish saw the rod end coming towards it and assumed it was a crude attempt to harpoon it, as it handed in it's surrender and I managed, to my surprise, to net it quite dextrously, lifting it out in the next with one hand and picking out the rod end with the other. The feeling of relief of the safe beaching both fish and rod was only slightly tarnished by the fact the Common only weighed 8lbs. I'm sure they must breed them with rocket fuel in Alders, or else my theory is true that they fight harder in clear water as they can see where they're bolting to without fear of blindly hitting a submerged tree stump or a pike. But with him safely released, the horror returned: examination showed that the rod had not simply discombobulated, but the middle section had actually sheared in two. I was heartbroken. I only have one decent piece of kit, and that's my 15 ft Cadence rod (or to put it more accurately now, my 8ft and 7ft Cadence rods!) If I'd been playing a Marlin, had foul hooked the Newbury to Reading Express, or used the rod to pole vault across the lake, I could have understood it being unable to take the pressure, but this was an 8lb fish on light line. I look forward to hearing what Cadence have to say. Next emotion: stupor. With the sun and temperature rising, came my gradual removal of gloves, fur hat, coat and then woolly jumper, while the lake went quiet. I didn't see a fish move for over an hour. As Alders can go 'Alders-y', I crossed the 10 yard causeway to Willows lake. Here, unusually, I didn't see a fish move all day either. I fished high/low/out/in/scaled down/scaled up but nothing more to show other than a mid-afternoon roach, all of 2 ounces. As I packed up, a large family of mixed generations were standing at the gate, pleading for me to unlock the gate and let them in. Initially suspicious that they had either thrown their frisbee over the otter fencing, or planned a picnic on the bank, my final emotion of the session turned to humility: they had come with a relatives ashes, his being a member of NAA in his day, for whom fishing had obviously been so important that they wanted him to spend eternity here. That's what fishing means to us anglers. I don't know about you, but I can't justify our art in any way: it takes up so much time, is often frustrating and uses up so much of my mental bandwidth. I don't suppose the fish enjoy it that much either (apart from the bit when we kiss 'em then return them to the water, maybe). I'm not even very good at fishing, but that doesn't really matter. The law of averages says I'll fluke a big'un every now and then, but like our dearly departed friend, and, if you're reading this, dare I say you, we all love it.

What a treat. Today I got to fish with PeterJG of this parish. I joined him on the bank ashamedly 30 minutes late for our agreed 5am start, with PJG doing the gentlemanly thing and not catching anything before my arrival. Sadly, this was to continue for both of us some hours, though I did manage a tiny blank-avoiding roach. Finding it a struggle, I scaled down to a size 18 hook, only to be destroyed by the first lunge of the one decent fish of the day. PJG showed me his photo albums of past glories. Honesty, I've never seen such magnificent carp, catfish, chub etc etc, so don't do as I did, and let this kindly-faced, silver-tongued rascal tell you that fishing is all down to luck. As the chilly north wind came in, we moved to relative shelter of the opposite bank. The leger rod was to remain untouched all day, while regularly changing the depths on the waggler at least brought a few bites. I ended up with a further 9 roach, including estimated weights of 6oz, 7oz and 8oz: all nice fish, but perhaps a disappointing return overall. The non-piscatorial company remained excellent throughout the day, PJG making sure he left me with a joke or a puzzle every time we compared notes. Peter, I don't want to give your material away, but this one had me laughing whenever I thought of it during the day: I saw a friend the other day and said, 'I hear you failed your exam on indigenous Australian music. Digeridoo it again?' I believe I was 10-7 up in the roach-off when my time came to go. Hopefully Peter landed a netful in extra time. I'm already looking forward to the rematch.

Arrived at 3:30 in shirt-sleeve sunshine to find a gent tackling up in the swim I'd planned to fish. No problem, we had a friendly chat and wished each other luck as I took the swim opposite. He set up a pole rig, a tactic I am too clumsy to attempt, which would prove an interesting comparison to my ham-fisted approach. Immediately, the sun went in, never to return and the NE breeze, prevalent of the last week or more built up and blew over my competitor and into my face, chopping the water in front of me. This had me reaching for the method feeder instead of the planned float rod, after first running back to the car for a coat. I watched my pole-pal bring in fish after fish, losing some on the way. When he packed up he came over for a chat. He'd had 6 bream (some quite large) a carp, some roach and perch for quite a return, but strangely no tench. I'd had 3 (3lb 10, 3lb 4 and 1lb 4) as well as 3lb 4 bream. Highlight though was a carp caught in the half-hour before dusk when the breeze finally eased. The float zipped away and I hung on as line was stripped, albeit the clutch was fairly loose. I tightened up as it headed to the overhangs to my left but failed to stop it snagging itself in them. I had to trip my way through thorn and nettle to change the angle. To my surprise this worked, and when the fish made for open water I knew it was mine. Looking to impress my neighbour with my catch, I was amazed to see its size. It hit the scales at 2lb 4oz. Yes, two pounds four ounces, but one of the feistiest fish I've fought for a while. Well fished, Dave. A pleasure to meet and be outfished by you.

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.

I was going to spend the evening at Alders, but when I arrived there was quite a breeze rattling from the west causing quite a chop. With showers planned, I defaulted for the sheltered north corner of adjacent Willows. For the second consecutive week, I watched the carp mouthing at the surface just yards from my feet. With no biscuits/bread/pellets, I suspended a pop-up on the surface from a bomb, but they weren't interested. While the pop-up bobbed on the surface, even the terns ignoring it, I gently loose fed corn in the margin to my right and eventually put a float out. I had a few bites, none connected, and the corn was nabbed each time. Finally I hit one, and whatever it was took off towards Reading. It took me right so far that I looked down to make sure I had enough line on the spool. Then it went across to the far bank, and turned left making for the reed bed some distance away. All I could do was hold on, my heart jumping a couple of times when the line slackened for a moment before the fish took off again. I just about managed to turn its head with max pressure as it neared its destination, so it changed it's mind and went for the overhangs to my left. Whatever it was, it was clearly bigger than the 10lb intended maximum for the lake. Holding the rod as far out as I could, I managed to keep it in open water and suddenly the fight was out of it. As I wound, I noticed it was coming in backwards and my suspicion was confirmed - I'd foul-hooked it in the side. The Mirror came in at 'only' 14lb 10, I thought it would be bigger, but foul hooking always makes for a double-hard fight. Having spent the afternoon on my own, I was surprised when at that moment a young lad came up to me and agreed to take the pic. He said he'd come to fish for half an hour, and then went. Very odd. That was the last bite of the evening, but meeting a member as I closed the gate who'd endured a biteless blank at Warwicks, I was even more grateful for that little bit off luck. I'll be off to the pet shop for some doggie biscuits anon.

It's a funny old world. Last Tuesday evening there was such a strong wind blowing through that I had to pop back to the car for gloves. But through the chop, I could see the silhouettes of the carp, dozens of them, swimming in packs under the surface. I fished a zig rig on the bouncy surface and just under it, then tried the bottom, 6-inches and 2ft off it. I've rarely seen as many fish as I saw that evening, but left with a blank. Saturday - A Spring scorcher. Lovely to sit in the sun. Bit quiet. The carp didn't show for me, but I got to read my book, get a bit burned and have a tench and a couple of bream either side of the 7lb mark. Easter Monday - an unexpected bonus 4 hours. At first light the carp were on the surface everywhere, but again weren't interested in my surface-suspended pop-up, so when they melted away with the rising sun I reverted back to plan A and jumped across to Alders. On the east bank, a chill westerly breeze had me uncomfortable and fishless, so I swapped back to the sheltered side of Willows. Fishing a corn and maggot combo under a float, I had 2 more bream of 3 and 6lb, and, 10 mins from packing-up-for-lunch time, a feisty and rather beautiful Common of exactly 11lbs. Happy Easter.

Another frosty start, and having had a 'meh' day at Dobsons yesterday, I made for my default lake of Willows. Here the water temp at 11 degrees was down a degree, and I wondered if it would have any effect. Maybe it did, because after fish at 9:20am (a pretty Mirror of 6lb 6, 10:20am (a Common of 8lb 9) and 11:20am (a 1lb 3oz tench), the old '20-minutes-past-the-hour' trick evaporated and so did any more catches. The surprisingly few anglers around the bank also struggled. The morning warmed to a point when my jumper came off, but clouds bubbled up and a breeze came in giving the water a chop and had be reaching for the woollens again. Each time the sun burst through for a few moments, I could see groups of 5 or 6 carp circling the water under the surface, before the returning cloud rendered them invisible again. I fished a zig-rig either on, or just under the surface hoping to ambush one of these patrols. A good strategy, would you agree, but the fish didn't, though in one moment of clarity I saw a fish approach and mouth the floating pop-up, but it immediately spooked and disappeared with a swirl. Bit disappointing really, and Saturday night TV was even worse.

I turned up bright and early after yesterdays winds to find a chap fishing in my chosen swim. Turned out it was celebrity commentor from this parish, PeterJG, who said he recognised me from this blog. What a top gent he turned out to be. Very quick to play down his undoubted angling abilities, I didn't believe a word of it, as he out-breamed me 4-3 and threw in a few of his beloved roach on top. A total pleasure to meet you, PJG. My estimations that the air pressure being sub-1000 would have the fish queuing up to be caught proved unfounded. I varied tactics, depths and baits, and apart from a roach that gave no bite, 2 bream in 5 minutes and one mid-afternoon, of 3lb 7, 4lb 14 and 4lb 14, that was that. PeterJG sensing he had a winning lead in our bream-off. packed up early afternoon. And so it proved, though Peter, once you'd gone I couldn't help notice all those roach jumping in your swim - all over the 2lb mark, I'm pretty sure! I would have stepped into that swim and bagged up, but that would have been unsporting, and understandably I remained where I was, biteless, but hopeful of an unlikely hattrick of 4lb 14oz bream. Quote of the day from PeterJG - 'I'm not very good at fishing - but I do love it.' Hear hear, PJG.

A good evening, even if it was pretty chilly in the strong S-SW breeze. But it went to plan. I set up in my swim at 3:15, anticipating fish arriving in it about 6 (though hoping they might be there already, of course) 6:00 - The first bite came on-the-dot. It was a slow bite and a long lethargic fight, but it eventually came in as a perfect 13lb 8 Mirror. 6:15 - A personal best 8lb 3oz Bream 7:00, 7:35, 7:55 and 8:10 - Commons of 8lb 2, 6lb 6, 9lb 9 and 4lb Not sure if it was a coincidence, but I put 2 maggots on the hook of the hair-rigged wafter. Will do that again.

Wednesday - A last short afternoon of the season as the gardening season has properly kicked off, and I have to pay for the maggots some how. Arrived at Willows at 2:30 to two surprises: There was only one other chap fishing, and the carp were up on the top everywhere. It was a still afternoon, certainly not the warmest, but there they were, sucking at the surface, some only 3ft from the bank, with groups of 3 or 4 fish seemingly liable to pop their heads up at any point. I fancied I’d either catch a hundred, or none at all. I fished a pop-up on a hook length long enough for me to see it bobbing on the surface. Casting at small groups, my bait was mouthed and spat out a couple of times before one took it. A 9lb 4 Common. Then the temperature dropped and so did the fish. Eventually I changed to a float and corn and lost a big ‘un after a 10 minute fight when it decided it’d had enough of toying with me and turned on the afterburners. Friday - It was zero degrees when I arrived at first light, and felt much colder with a solid northerly breeze. I knew it would be a tough half-day, but one can only fish in the hours ordained, and if you stay at home, like all of my other angling brethren, you can’t catch a fish. At least the snow showers of yesterday had passed. And it was tough, just the single bite around midday for a perfect 8lb Mirror which made it all worthwhile. Hmm. A cormorant took advantage of me being the only angler, and worked the lake for much of the morning. I rarely if ever see one on the water if there are a few more of us on the bank. Saturday - Even colder. Minus 2 start plus the same wind. Froze my pop-ups off, it did. Nothing all morning then just as it warmed up slightly, I had a 4lb Mirror and 5lb Common in the last 45 mins. Highlights of the day were watching a territorial Canada goose and equally territorial Egyptian goose having an all beaks and wings fight. Violent stuff, oh, and a duck limbo dancing under the impromptu otter fencing. Roll on Spring

Ok, so my experiment didn't work. 3 small roach in three other venues had me cross at my lack pf skill and back at the shallows of Willows until the water warms up. But then Saturday only saw my bad run continue. A day spent in the sun was pleasant enough, but only one bite and a face-saving 5lb 8 Common was a disappointment. Tuesday brought the first cloudy day in a fortnight and temperatures half of last weeks 16 degrees, My first evening stint since the clock change had me changing tack from last Saturday and I stuck to the margins rather than pinging towards the island. This didn't work either until the last hour when as darkness came in, I had a fab Crucian of 2lb 14 (my p.b.), a tench of the same weight, a 7lb bream hooked mere inches from the bank, and finally, while packing up, a bonus Common of 9lb 7. I'd have stayed longer, but I only had a torch and the beam of my smile, and it was getting pretty chilly. To cap a morale-boosting session, I saw the kingfisher (twice), had my float mouthed and spat out by a Canada goose, and packed up beneath circling bats to the sound of an owl. I love fishing.

Tuesday - 3 hours available after work and went to Warwicks, given intelligence of large perch being caught there . Dilemma: given it was a bright sunny day, did I pick a swim already in shade knowing perch prefer low light levels to ambush, or, a sunny swim where the sweltering sun would stay til sunset, attracting roach to the surface so drawing the perch in. Hmm, what would you choose? I chose the latter, and though it was very pleasant sitting in the warmth, I alternated between caster, work and prawn for no bites Wednesday - An afternoon at Dobsons by the floating islands. Two rods allowed, so had one on bottom, the other with a zig exploring the mid and upper depths. No bites. Towards the end a chap came round walking his dog. 'Blimey, you should've been at Willows,' he smirked. 'Fishing it's nuts off, today' he added, 'Evryfinks coming out.' Selfishly, I did not find this great news but it made me think:. Dilemma: Though us land creatures were enjoying consecutive days of unseasonably warm weather, the water temperature was probably a few weeks behind and though the Angling Times and NAA Facebook page were showing fabulous catches, should I have stuck to shallow lakes, such as Willows, where the waters would be warming the fastest. Friday - Dilemma - Though on this logic Willows was the place to be, what you won't know is that I've been pre-baiting a swim on Dixons all week in front of a section of far bank weeds and tumbling willow, which struck me as a fish holding area, so it would have been churlish not to fish it. So I spent a lovely day in the sun there for just three roach totalling a pound, one of which gave no bite at all so I presumed it was a twig until I lifted it from the water. But while I'm sure the carp were leaping into landing nets at Willows, and probably barracudas and mako too, I felt I really fished well for those three paltry silvers. The only other chap on the seeming sterile water drew a blank while I still enjoyed every minute. OK, so I'm almost certainly going swallow my pride and limp in to Willows tomorrow, but I'd missed the feared hattrick of blanks.

Well, today summed up quite nicely the dilemma I'm at with my fishing. Regular readers will see that I generally choose to fish at Willows. Well, it's easy to park, sheltered from most winds, otter-proofed and there are no crays. It's also pretty easy to catch good fish. Since re-finding fishing in June 2020, the vast majority of the 149 Commons and 101 Mirrors (between 1lb and 18lb) I've caught have come from Willows (not including the many tench, bream and crucians) I have 12 written rules of fishing borrowed from such angling heroes as Jeremy Wade and Chris Plumb. One, painfully learned after many largely self-inflicted blanks, is 'always fish where you have the best chance of catching fish'. So why wouldn't I fish Willows? One reason is that though it's great fun, it doesn't really develop my angling skills. So today I started at Dobsons, to pit my wits at a much larger lake where the water depth is more variable. After 2 hours I'd not had a touch. So OK, one cant be an angler without patience, but another of my rules is 'be decisive', and with many previous blanks there, I headed the 5 minutes to Alders. Here I sat for another 2 hours, again getting no bites, so with Willows just a cast away, I crossed the bank to my spiritual home. It was a quiet few hours, but with a Common of 8lb 2 and decent bream of 7lb 8*, maybe I did the right thing. Hmm. So do I carry on favouring Willows, or probably catch less, but potentially learn more? Without the distraction of rivers and canals for the next 3 months, and the netting and moving of 50 carp from Willows next week undoubtedly freaking up all remaining fish, I pledge to give the lake a miss for at least 2 weeks and spend the time between Dixons, Dobsons and Alders. Wish me luck and watch this space... * Ha. Big as it was, the bream rose to the surface as soon as it was hooked and insisted I dragged it across the surface like I was hauling in a soggy focaccia. This caught the attention of a number of terns who flew in and circled the floppy excuse for fish as it gave no resistance beyond it's not inconsiderable weight. I honestly thought they were going to dive at it, maybe even hitching a ride on it back to shore, and I'm sure the bream was even more relieved than me to be landed safely in my net.

OK, so its the close season, and I fully understand the reasons for it. My personal opinion with fishing NAA stillwaters is that without human presence, the cormorants will be straight on them, predating. Certainly, I regularly saw them this week and think my presence may have contributed to them flying over the lakes rather than in them. I also wonder if a 3-month stop in bait going into the lakes which would certainly be a good thing in regards to build up of nutrients etc, would leave the fish hungry. I know the NAA fed the waters in lockdown. Who knows: there's an argument both ways, but having lost 20 years of my fishing career to bringing up family/other vices, personally I am happy to continue to fish. Maybe this is why the fish gods turned against me this week... Tuesday - Had an engagement at the club hut to retrieve NAA trophies for awarding at the April AGM, and with only 3 hours to fish, stayed at the venue. I've hardly fished there at all, and never done well. My continuation of poor performance was compounded by the Fishery Management team who rowed around the lake servicing each of the filtration pumps in turn. Blank. Wednesday - Started to rain as I got out of the car at midday. It was pouring down by the time my brolly was set up and did not abate through the whole afternoon until I packed up at 6. Changed methods/baits/depths umpteen times, but not a single bite. Miserable. If there was any good side, it was that there was no wind, so I stayed pretty dry under the umbrella, though every excursion out to make another cast was unpleasant. Friday - Alders. All day. One bite leading to (hurrah!) a 4lb 4oz bream. Stiff easterly wind took every degree of temperature out of the sunshine. Got fed up and walked around Willows at 4pm to find the sheltered North corner black with carp cruising in the late afternoon sunshine, despite 29 of the larger fish being netted and moved to lakes anew the day before. A beautiful sight. I knew where I was going to fish tomorrow. Saturday - Willows - All day. Bite first cast resulting in a beautiful 12lb 2 Mirror. Seemingly identical weather conditions as yesterday, mine was again the only corner of the lake not hit by easterlies, but did the carp fraternity arrive for their afternoon sunbathe? No, they didn't. No more bites. OK, the water temperatures peaked at only 10 degrees on the Saturday, but it was a bit disappointing. Still, I enjoyed every minute, and that's what it's all about really.

Hmm, though the end of the running-water season approacheth, I could not resist a last chance at Willows before the planned transfer of 50 of its larger carp to other lakes the next day. What's more, with rain is due, I always feel it will be easier to huddle under a brolly on a lakeside rather than a river bank. It started off dry and still, and with two fish in the first three casts, I anticipated a fine haul. Then the first of two, two-hour rain stints kicked in and the strong S/SE winds of the last week or so kicked in. Bites slowed, though I caught fish as regular intervals and lost a few too. By the time I started to pack up, everything was sodden and I'd been the only angler all day. But there was time for one last fish that had my heart jumping for a moment or two as it came to the net. What do you reckon - Common or Crucian? No barbels, humpy back, but with 37 scales on the lateral line, it must have been a hybrid. Shame. It was an old warrior and at 4lb 10, would have made it a very different day! Commons - 7lb 14, 6lb 12, 5lb 5, 4lb 8, 7lb 2, Bream - 6lb 8, 4lb 8, 4lb 1, Mirror - 8lb 8 Hybrid - 4lb 10

A rare opportunity to fish on a Sunday, so thought I'd do something different and went for a last piking session of the season. I'm very drawn to Dixon's Mere; it's quiet, underfished, and has no crays or (on the few occasions I've fished it) any nuisance waterfowl. On the other hand, there's no otter fencing or much in the way of recent catch reports, so I'm not sure what's in there. Fished the east bank, spending half an hour in each of 8 swims, reading that if pike are present, they'll have a bite pretty quickly. I did get a run at swim 2 that came off at the net, not a big fish, but certainly over 5lbs, but nothing went near my mackerel after that. Though it was suitably overcast, there was a fair east breeze that made it feel uncomfortably cold. I returned to swim 1 for the last hour and stuck a worm on a float hoping for one or two of the perch I've caught there before. No such luck, but as the wind started to whip the surface of even this sheltered swim, I lost sight of the float. Turned out there was a fish on the end, a 3lb 2 pike. Oh well, wasn't quite the day I'd hoped for, but I'll certainly be coming back to look for other stuff.

With just a week left of the moving water season, I probably should have spent my 3-hours in a river or canal, but given the blanks lure fishing on my last two Tuesdays and the pretty strong winds, I pitched for the comparative shelter of my tree-lined default location, Willows. Sorry guys. But it was a good move. The fish turned out to be where I suspected they might and in that short session came 7 carp: Mirrors of 6lb, 10lb then 6lb 10 and Commons of 5lb, 6lb 8, 2lb 12 and 7lb 10. Four of the fish came in the last half hour. What fun! Never try and repeat a success, they say, but that wind was still blowing next day and well, with fish you never know. My 6-hour session brought the same number of fish. Commons of 8lb 4, 3lb 14, 7lb 2 and 6lb 14 plus a chunky Mirror of 7lb 2 and two beaming bream of 6lb 12 and 5 lb 2. I might have got blown to bits by the incessant wind, but almost 90lbs of fish in 9 hours made it very much worthwhile

(1) Tuesday pm, had another 2 hours to waste my time tossing a lure around, despite the persistent rain throughout. You can't say I'm not keen. The water below the bridge was thick with run-off from the fields, whereas above the lock it is gin-clear through lack of boat traffic, but neither proved conducive, as I didn't get a touch (again). Lure fishing always looks so easy on YouTube. The occasional explosion of bleak suggested the perch were about, but I couldn't tempt them no matter how many times I changed lure, depth or retrieval rate. (2) Wednesday pm. More rain, so hid under the brolly at Willows. A nice afternoon's mixed fishing with a Mirror of 8lb 8, a surprise tench of 2lb 9. bream of 5lb and finishing with 2 x Commons on 7lb 6 and 5lb 6. That was more like it. (3) Friday. No rain, but the gentle breeze was bitter. Nothing from first light except having to watch lovey-dovey grebes necking in my swim, as well as regular shameless duck gang-bangs putting me right off my bite detection. Then a million black gnats hatched and insisted on swarming over my head. But finally, at 2pm, two Commons of 6lb 9 and a stonking 14lb 2 arrived within 5 minutes of each other and suddenly it wasn't a bad day after all. The fun died down again, but there was still time for a 7lb 8-er to make it a hattrick.

My last couple of weeks of Feb were blown off-track by the storm winds of Eunice and her pals, and by a trip to Wales that usurped a booked trip to the famed river Itchen. (hope it went well for you, fellers). Pre-storm, I'd had a weekday afternoon where threatened rain had me at Willows, where a brolly is better suited than my planned trip back to Speen. The weather kept others away, apart from a very friendly fully-kitted out chap just along from me who with bait boat assistance, already had 4 carp to his name by the time I plonked down. With my puny rod and scattergun casting technique, I felt rather rag-and-bone man in approach as I sat staring at my bobbins made of bottle corks and hair grips swaying in the wind, quite untroubled by fish while his bionic bite alarms screamed time after time. As we both packed up at dusk, I'd missed a couple of bites but did have a mirror of around six and a half just before close of play which I was too embarrassed to formally weigh for you as my new friend hadn't bothered with any of his l3 fish. I had a couple of hours a few days later, the first windless day after the storms blew through, so I took some lures to the canal/river stretch either side of Bulls Lock. Don't ask why, but I'd not appreciated that the NAA's stretch of river to Widmead Lock is not only pretty long, but looks quite powerful, comparatively deep and full of fish-holding features. Whilst the only thing to trouble any of my lures were submerged branches and snags, I was enthused by the prospect of future visits quivertipping to trailing branches, or trotting the straight sections and wondered why I'd heard so little about the section. Was it because members were keeping it a secret? Or the nuisance of large numbers of pedestrians and dogs sharing the towpath, or simply the distance from any carpark? Then there was a crashing in the water as a huge, oily cormorant made it's take off run from midstream and I knew that perhaps I'd found my answer. Next day, more winds planned (and it was a cold one too) so again lashed my brolly down at Willows. A 4lb-er first cast with a brand-new bite alarm/bobbin combo promised a bag-up, but that was it, until last cast, where a particularly pretty 8lb10 Common brought the end to my fishing month with a needed surge of spirit.

Friday. Got to Speen in the frost at first light with some cheese paste and link legers. Threw a few freebies in half a dozen swims, then fished them in turn. Had a 3lb 6 chub early doors (I'm only 97 behind you now, Chris!). No more chub action was to ensue, just three swim-thrashing trout each around the two and a half pound mark. Sitting watching the quivertip not move very much, I switched to a trot for just a roach and a dace, but thought how 'pikey' (the fish kind, not the scrote) and pledged to come back with some dead baits next day. Saturday. Returned with the dead baits. Soon worked out to fish them paternoster to keep them above the heads of the crayfish. Spent 20 mins in each of a number of great looking swims, but nothing. With the wind getting gustier, which I hear is not to the pike's liking, I took my baits to Dixons Mere where the trees would shelter the find and block the afternoon sunshine that unexpectedly broke. I had just the one run for my efforts, but it was from a lovely conditioned pike of 9lb 9. Thank you, Dixons. It's a lovely looking lake and I must fish it more. Bit of disappointing return really, but now home with a glass of red, a takeaway and watching my football team become World Club Champions, I'm pretty sure I've had worse days!

I had planned to fish the Kennet at Brimpton, but the sun was so bright and with the low water level after weeks of no rain, I felt the fish might be too spooky, so risked repeating my error of last Wednesday afternoon and went to Willows. On arrival, I was told a good number of carp had come out that morning, so I set up expectantly in 12 degrees of warmth. Tried a few things, but nothing. Brought out the float rod for a blank-buster and had 15 small roach before the bites dried up. At 3:30 a couple of fish jumped where I'd been casting earlier, so I cast back out to them. Nothing. Not a touch, and an hour later, I started packing up. With bait away, float gear disassembled, even rod rest in the bag, all I had left to do was to wind in and sulk off home. Then the rod fell off the tacklebox I'd propped it on, but rather than creating a slack line, it went taut. I had a fish on. It came in like a sack of potatoes; I've dragged in branches that have put up a better fight, but boy, it was welcome. A really good looking Mirror too, freezing cold to the touch, and bang on 10lbs.

OK, OK, let's get Wednesday out of the way, then. After several warmer days, I was seduced by reports of fish coming out at Willows. I arrived to the sight of two topping fish which settled my swim choice, and heard of further catches that morning which elevated my anticipation so high that for a while, I wasn't bothered that I'd forgotten my seat and had 4-hours ahead of me sat on a plastic bag on a hard damp bank. By the time the buttock-ache really started kicking in, I'd had no bites on swim-fed bread flake or a zig-rig pinged around the lake. Developing upper leg cramp brought no fishy action, nor did it when spiking knee pain took over and ended in a pulled calf. Between the twinges, I managed 11 small blank-bustin' roach in an hour on the float, but that was that, and I limped back to the car as my circulation slowly returned. Today then, lesson learned; no lake for me as I drove the country track to Speen in harsh rain; the first in weeks. It continued through my first hour, but eased as I had a decent bite on the legered bread flake, pinged out towards some overhangs. In came my nemesis... a chub! And at 3lb 10 it was embarrassingly a p.b. We clearly felt the same. It's lack of a real fight despite the number of snags it could have dived for was just shame. No more bites despite numerous swim changes, I made off for my favourite weir swim. Here the wind dried me out, but took most vestiges of body warmth with it. And the fish. My one bite in an hour brought a beautiful gudgeon, but that was it. Not even a trout, though I did hook an ancient and somehow sunken tennis ball, which I first feared was a hand grenade when it surfaced. Oh, and a fat labrador stopped, stuck its snout into my bag and made off with my loaf of bread. Two minutes later, the apologetic owner returned and handed me a pooh-bag containing the few flobbered scraps she had been able to recover from her filching fido's jaws. The last hour was spent at Parliament Draft where the westerly wind whipped the surface throughout. I expected no bites at all and that's just what I got. Funny old day.

Well, it finally happened. Thank you CP. A size 14 hook, a kernel of red sweetcorn and after 20 minutes at the weir, a beautiful 2lb 4oz chub finally, finally came in to my net, rubber lips, bronzed scales and everything. I almost declared there and then and went home. Fishing way over depth, the bulk shot may have dragged, but the fishing didn't, although the fish to follow were both trout in the 1.5lb bracket. Planning to spend some of the day piking, I went to the canal but found it rimed-over, so returned to Parliament Draft. I tossed a mackerel fillet into a juicy looking area of snaggy calm, but when I reeled it in to find 5 adult crayfish pincered to the flesh, I knew it was time to go trotting. With my feet till surrounded by frost from last night's chill, when the low afternoon sun hit the water it stimulated nine roach (to 4 ounces) 3 dace (to 3) and a bleak to come pay me a visit. I had a dusky final 45 mins in the frost-free section by Guyer's Bridge to toss a lure around, but it proved too cold for the perch, even at a 1st gear retrieval rate.

Well, that was a fun afternoon. The plan always was to spend the first half of it with stick float and single maggot on the canal. Despite the morning frost, it was beautiful in the sun, and with no wind or boat traffic, it was like a millpond. Once the fish picked up on the gentle loose feeding and occasional conker of groundbait, the roach came in thick and fast. I stopped when I got to 50 (in less than 2½ hours) , supplemented by six bleak (not dace). Curiously, the roach started small, then I found bigger ones at two ounces, then the three ounce 'big boys' took over. Sadly, that's when the sequence ended, the final three coming in a slow last half hour when no matter how often I changed the line of depth, I couldn't find them again. No matter, cue the second part of the plan. I swapped rods for the 6ft lure rod and tiny reel I'd bought with Xmas vouchers and went started roving the banks. I've never really given lures more than a token toss for a few minutes every now and then, but hey, there are so many lure anglers these days, they must be catching something. It was fun flinging the things around, and using braid, I felt every knock as I jigged them across the canal bed, but all I managed to do was lose three lures pulling in major sunken branches. It started to darken and I was anticipating a second-half blank, when there was a couple of jags on the rod tip and I'd snared a fish! Turned out to be a nice one too, a 2lb 6 perch. With the same rubber-tailed shad, I also managed a 1lb 6 perch in fading light at my 'roach' swim.

My Speen Moors misery continues. No bites in the first couple of hours alternating floated maggot with legered bread flake. The low sun was bright, and perhaps that's what put the fish off, combined, perhaps with yesterdays below-zero temperatures. So, on to Parliament Draft, and fished very swim, having pepped each with 15 mins of loose feed first. Zip. I'd burned most of them on my swim-crawl back towards the entry gate, when a fellow committee member, whose angling skills I revere, turned up on a scouting mission and assured me that in his opinion I wasn't doing much wrong. There being a bit more pace to the water, he was surprised the fish weren't showing. Frankly, I wasn't. For the last swim on the Draft, I threw caution to the wind and scaled down from the size 14 hook correctly advised to me, and went for an 18 on a gossamer-thin hook length. I hit the motherload. As the cold, January rain started to fall I nailed six (count them), six small dace, and two equally diminutive roach. Even they stopped when the rain turned to sleet, with just three minnows (and one crayfish so large I was tempted to weigh it) to show for my persistence before even I took the hint and gave up. Pah!