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Two short sessions squeezed in around Jo's shifts. Sunday - Willows. Why, oh why, do I repeatedly tell myself that lakes are a good idea in winter? OK, the temperature has been double-digit for 10 days with a steady SSW, wind and the water temperature has risen from 5.5 a few weeks ago to 10.5 degrees today, but the water was choppy and seemed dead. Dead enough to put a blank-bustin' maggot out on float for the last hour, but even that was a struggle. Managed just three roach to 3oz when for the second day running, un-forecast rain moved in. Everything got drenched in the next half hour, and presuming the water temp to have dropped, I gave it up. Naturally, as I loaded the car the rain stopped: just like that. I walked to speak to the two other poor souls fishing. Mat and Dan had caught one small carp between them. I'd not met them before and this was only Mat's third trip as a new member, but as I invariably find with members, they were friendly, chatty and keen to swap tips. They were even kind enough to let me use some of our conversation in issue 2 of the NAA newsletter, due out by next week, fingers x'd. Wednesday pm, I gave myself the choice of the Lambourne or 'my' swim on the canal. Sadly, it seems to me there are always too many anglers on the Lambourne, particularly in the afternoons to the point where I feel sorry for the grayling. So while I thought I still might do better there in terms of weight, particularly given the return to minus temperatures last night, I plumped for the canal. It was beautiful sitting in the sun, it really turned when it hid behind the trees and was a chilly 2 degrees when I left at dusk. There was also a fairly persistent westerly breeze causing a bit of a chop which, given the bright sunshine, I couldn't decide if it helped or hindered the fishing. Slower than other trips, I still managed 23 roach, a few bigger than the one photographed, being 3 or 4 ounces, plus three bleak. Sadly no gudgeon. No perch either, though there were a number of surface attacks sending the bleak into explosions of panic. Perhaps I'll take a worm or two next time.

At last; the chance to put my two New Year Resolutions into action: 1 - Eat more pepper - I like pepper on my food, but often forget to put it on. 2 - Sort myself out when it comes to fishing rivers and catch a few pike. I started at the weir swim and soon had my first fish of the year: a gudgeon, surely the harbinger of fishing success and everything being good in the world. And so it proved, as it was followed by a nice dace sandwiched between two chub, a fish so elusive to me that I had to check how to spell it. Maybe they were 12oz and a pound, but they still counted. Then I struck on the gentlest of dips on the float and after a couple of seconds, something powered off into the surf, my centrepin nearly taking the skin off my thumb. Surely my 3.8lb hook length/size 18 combo couldn't take that? It couldn't and that was that. After that heart-thumper/breaker it went quiet so i switched to a lump of bread and bombed it to the back edge of the flow. First cast brought a ruddy red signal crayfish, but second had the rod top jangling and a 2½lb brownie rather than the craved hat trick chub. By now the bank was festooned with New Year's Day walkers, all in bobble hats despite the warmth, with unleashed dogs, all taking too much interest in my bread and sandwiches, so I moved to Enborne for some peace, piking then perching. It was then that the un-forecast rain hit, and had the unsuitably dressed me cowering under my unhooking mat for an hour. I did get a run, and this rather fab 9lb 4oz pike (at what weight does a 'jack' become a 'pike? I'd say this was a pike.).No more pikey/jackey action unless you count overenthusiastic casting costing me two traces and both of my pike floats in the unforgiving far-bank reeds. Onto a stick float for the perch as the afternoon progressed, and whether or not it was the earlier rain affecting the water temperature, they really weren't interested, the biggest of the trio being a mere three ounces. None of the six roach even hit this weight, and I doubt the 21 bleak weighed anything at all. As the winter light started to ebb away, I thought the perch might wake up, but no, and my final chance was crushed by a rental narrow boat that chugged through so fast I could have water skied behind it and was only surprised that it didn't try and jump the lock.

The end of another year, the second after my 20 year+ hiatus from the sport that has totally recaptured me like a bleak to a pinkie. It included my first ever grayling (they never had them in Surrey) and my first Crucian and Rainbow since 1977 approx. I'm quite anal in my record keeping, writing a journal, updating a spreadsheet, and then there's been this jolly-old blog since March, so I am well-equipped to shake a creel full of statistics at you which are of interest to, at best, myself. Here goes: Total number of trips: 167 Total number of hours spent fishing: 912.25 Thus average length of trip = 4.6 hours Total number of fish caught: 1,277 (not including 49 minnows) Total weight of fish: 1,850lbs. This average weight per trip = 11lbs, number of fish caught per trip = 7.74 @ 1 fish every 42 minutes. Number of blank trips was 20, ie 1 in 8 trips. number caught number over 1lb Seasons biggest number caught number over 1lb Seasons biggest Bleak 102 NA NA Bream 75 27 6lb 2 Brownie 25 16 3lb 8 Common 117 116 18lb 9 Chub 8 2 1lb 12 Crucian 10 4 2lb 12 Dace 39 0 12oz Grayling 7 2 1lb 4 Gudgeon 12 NA monster! Mirror 90 90 16lb 10 Perch 270 13 2lb 6 Pike 2 2 3lb 2 Rainbow 1 1 5lb 3 Roach 450 0 12oz Rudd 20 0 4oz Tench 49 45 5lb 8 There. Not great, is it. The profile suggests someone who has concentrated on Willows (carp, tench), and hasn't got to grips with rivers (the chub count is appalling). Plenty of room for improvement, especially chub, and I'd like to do some piking this winter. I also aim to get the blanks down to 1 in 5, and find some larger roach. BTW the picture is from 1975, a shot of me and my late Dad fishing (he hated it, but came with me occasionally, bless him).

With the temperature in unseasonable double-figures and the rivers low, I thought it rude not to have a bash on the lake. Not an auspicious start as mid-first cast, the pop-on spool on my reel popped-off and flew into the drink. I carefully hand wound the 100 yards or so of line and had it on the surface about 10 foot from the bank when the backing knot gave and it sank irretrievably lost to the depths. Spare spool clicked firmly on, I had no bites as the showers lashed in until 11am when the bobbin gave a lazy, winter lift and in came a ponderous but vey welcome mirror of 8lb 10. With nothing happening after that, I took advantage of the 2-rod winter rule to put a light float a rod length out and tossed in a couple of balls of liquidised bread and hooked a maggot on an 18. I caught a roach first cast and over the next couple of hours had 49 more (biggest 6 oz), 4 bream (to 6oz), 1 perch (tiny) and 1 rudd (2oz). Would have liked a second carp, torpid or otherwise, but it was a fun afternoon in the improving and warming conditions.

Wednesday: Had a little under two hours to fish before dark, so took a second trip to the canal swim that produced so many (small) roach last week. It had been minus 5 when I started work that morning, and by now had only now climbed to a balmy 2 degrees, but despite being bothered by a narrow boat and canoeists, all of whom I gave hard stares, the roach didn't seem too bothered. The perch didn't show up however, but even so I thought I was going to beat the 50-fish barrier when, having nailed 2 bleak and 43 roach (some tiny, some 3oz, most in between), I added none in the final 20 minutes of light, the exact opposite of what seems to happen a mile upstream at Enborne. Fish eh? Xmas Eve: Temperature now a scorching 9 degrees (water temp 6) and I changed my mind from roving Speen Moors given the revered CP's relatively slow showing yesterday. Plumped for Knotts, in a corner swim where I'd caught relatively decent roach and perch in the past, with enough sinister vegetation to also look pikey. Huddled under my brolly when the rain came, the fish weren't in a Christmassy mood and all I brought in was the half-mackerel I sprayed around the swim. Allowed a second rod, I didn't get a bite either on tiny hook and single/double maggot at ay of the swim's 6ft depth. Ah, well. Saw a few cormorants and two herons, who also received my hardest stare. Did manage to feed a few maggots to a robin who kept coming down to stare at me quizzically. Happy Christmas fish, and the same to you all.

Wednesday, and I had the chance to fish for an hour or so before dark. I thought I'd give lure fishing ago given the number of guys marching up and down Speen Moors last Friday with their 7ft rods and multoplier reels. I dug out an old 9ft rod from the garage, and popped into Tony's for some artificial crayfish, rubberised worms and some wire traces. Thus kitted, I wound in fast, slow, jaggedy and twitchingly, but after an hour in various swims, all I'd landed were sunken leaves and submerged branches: very frustrating. I reached Bulls Lock and managed to cast into an overhanging branch on the far bank. First yank shook the branch but the lure remained in the foliage, so I tugged again and again, each time increasing the tension hoping to pull it clear... The crack of the line was inevitable. I looked at the branch - the lure was no longer snagged there. I starting to wind in the slack and immediately realised my rod was shorter than it had been moments earlier. But it hadn't snapped: that would have been careless, no, the end section had simply disappeared! I saw no splash in the water in front of me, nor did I hear it thrash into the trees behind me. I hunted until pitch black to no avail. It had gone. The only conceivable conclusion I could draw was that it had disintegrated into a million billion atoms. I stomped back to the car very peeved, cursing myself for not ditching this ridiculous sport and threatening to take up golf, if not embroidery. Two days later, my mental wounds had healed sufficiently, combined with continued unseasonably warm weather, to make my way to Willows with renewed enthusiasm. Not a touch in four hours, so I decided to go and float fish the canal. As I picked up the rod to pack the bite alarm it was resting on, it jumped in my hand and I was into a fish! It was only a 4lb 8 Common, but it brought a huge smile to my face. If I'd have picked the rod up 10 seconds earlier I'd have blanked. Ahh, fishing, eh? After a wasted 30 mins hoping for a repeat, I went to the canal to dangle a stick float for the remaining couple of hours of daylight. What joy. 50 roach (to a max of 4 ounces), and 10 bleak. I hoped that the roach's bigger brothers would turn up at dusk, but while they didn't, two perch of 12 ounces renewed the hope of a bumbling angler suffering the hurt of several recent blanks

The day after my last trip to Speen Moors, two bones in my instep started hurting. By the days end, I could barely put my foot to the floor. Not wanting a trip to casualty for an 8-hour wait plus possible Omicron exposure, I did the typically male thing and left it to get better on its own. What could go wrong? Well nothing really, as over the next couple of days while the pain didn't really subside, the swelling didn't spread and a bite-like head appeared in the area. I reckon something particularly insectular and angry must have sneaked into my boot and taken vengeance through my sock. By Wednesday, while I was still walking like a pirate, the pain was just starting to ease, though I could not have survived a working day's gardening with it. So I recuperated, by resting it by the swim by the car park at Willows. I fished far, short, thick and fine, but didn't get a single bite all day. For fishing Friday, I had Dixon's Mere to myself. I managed to miss 2 pike runs on mackerel (mercifully no crayfish here), and had no bites whatsover on feeder/floated maggot. Today, Sunday, was the Newbury Angling Association's Xmas Match. Around 20 anglers braved the cold wind to eat bacon rolls at Bellwood before moving out to fish their choice of lake, river or canal. With my gait more a limp than a hobble now, I was still not quite ready for a tackle-laden yomp, so stayed at Bellwood. For 4-hours I almost froze in the wind, but avoided the dreaded hat trick of blanks with two perch on a cage feeder, both pushing the scales at, say, around 1-ounce each. Come final whistle, I didn't bother claiming them, but as anglers returned to HQ, it appeared that everyone on the canal had blanked, though there was talk of a large perch lost. One angler weighed in 14 ounces at Bellwood, while a 4lb chub came out of the river. So whilst this isn't a classified result, it could well be that my mighty Percas may have been enough to claim 4th prize, but I didn't have the nerve to claim it.

I can almost get away with a shortcoming in angling skill and verve when the fish are hungry in summer, but winter is again flicking my nose and guffawing at me. Saturday was a bit grim. I'd heard it was going to be slightly warmer, so off I trot to Bellwood where I felt I had unfinished business after last week's match. Always cast at showing fish, they say, so when one popped at the surface as I arrived in 'car park corner,' that's where I sat. I alternated two from three of a pellet feeder with a wafter, a light float and maggot set up, and a zig-rig on a bomb which I pinged near and far and at various depths. Result: suffice to say that business remains very much unfinished, as I failed to get a knock all afternoon. Slightly warmer? Not at Bellwood. Bloomin' freezing. Where was Wincey Willis when I needed her? Sunday was up to ten degrees and lovely. I went to the Moors and my favourite weir pool swim - I always think there's fish to be had there, no matter whether or not I catch them. Second cast in had a maybe three-quarter pounder perch, soon followed by a little roach. A 2lb brownie was the highlight of the day (sorry, Chris), as at least it had the decency to pull line from the centrepin a few times. A solitary clunky 8oz dace and it was time to move on. Parliament Draft looked lovely, but the flow was slow and the fish maybe out doing their Christmas shopping, as I didn't get a single bite despite the standard 15 mins of pre-loose-feeding, holding the float back and changing the depths regularly. Don't worry for me though: I'm getting quite used to it. Back to the weir, for another perch and a single roach, which as it flapped it's way in, took the eye of a jack pike that clean jumped out of the water as it chomped and missed. The last hour was spent on the canal, hoping that the perch would fancy a pre-bedtime snack. But nope. There was a westerly breeze which I suppose might have put them off, but nothing. On the plus side I met a chap called Dan and his partner. He'd lured a small perch with a ned-rig, and were such a nice couple, that I was genuinely pleased that while I'd been struggling at Bellwood yesterday, he'd had three very good pike on the Moors. Well played, Dan.

Ah, Storm Arwen approacheth bringing strengthening winds and dropping air pressures. Having blanked in a 3-hour cold stint at Willows on Wednesday that didn't even make a blog entry (you really didn't miss much), I decided instead to humiliate myself on the river once more. Started off at the weir, and scraped a dace, a roach, two minnows and, at last, ... a chub! All 6 ounces of it. I also lost three much better fish, one that I thought was a snag before it torpedoed off, each one dropping off the hook. Size 16, fine wire maggot hook, microbarbed - I still cant work out what I do wrong to suffer so many losses. Maybe I strike funny. Parliament draught next, particularly well-named as the westerly wind blew straight down the channel so hard you could have surfed on it, I persevered for an hour but bait presentation was tricky and only a single small roach fell for it. Off to the freshly cut back northern straight, where hit by a hail shower, I kept my hands warm in my pockets as I switched from trotting and legered cheesepaste in a few chubby spots. Nothing - but frankly, I didn't expect anything. Back at the weir in the sun, I legered the rest of the cheesepaste at the end if the main flow for a 1lb 12 brownie before turning back to float where yet another fish threw the hook before a 1lb 6 perch remain snagged. Off the nearby canal for twilight at Enbourn where apart from a six-ouncer, the perch weren't showing - unless you count the dead 2lb+ one on the bank, a victim of otter attack. I managed to get irreparably tangled three times in that last hour and brought another disappointing river trip to an appropriate close, when driving home, in a steamed-up car wondering why I keep doing this to myself, I got stuck in race day traffic. Bleuggh.

9th - 3:30 til 7:45. Had just a few tentative bites, then, at last, a solid one. I struck, there was strong resistance and I brought in...a large branch. Did the vegetation really make a grab for my bait? Then I struck into a carp which pulled yards from the centrepin. I played it for a minute or so, but sensed that it wasn't firmly hooked. I was right, and off it fell. After that, while I always felt the fish were close - though not as near as the rats than were scampering around the undergrowth behind me, (one even swam out to examine my star-lite float before paddling back) this was my first blank since May. 10th - 2:30 til 4:45. A bonus session before dark, my being keen to right yesterdays wrong. Hmm, not much happened again, a handful of knocks on the float before it sailed away with 15 minutes to go, and it took all of that time to land a 6lb 6 Common on light tackle. Very happy to see him.

A Saturday morning to fish, and yesterdays frosts gone (though still requiring a fleece, waistcoat and thick coat). With the winter rule of 2 rods being allowed on the lake, I fished a light float to my left, and a boilie on a bomb in the margin to my right. I've never used a boilie before, but these were kindly donated to me and with it still nippy, was not sure the fish would be bothered to break into the cargo of a method feeder. Nothing on float, not even a bite on maggot/caster or corn, but from three huge 'takes' on the boilie. I lost one, but had commons of 10lb 5 and 7lb 4. Very happy with this, and a new bait to experiment further with.

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.

My gardening work is slowing down now, so I got to squeeze a 2-hour sesh in this afternoon. After so much rain recently, I'm surprised to see the water low, so low that I don't even bother with the very shallow first park-bench swim. At the first spot with more than a foot of depth, get a 4 ounce brownie as an angler stops to say he's caught 30 today, having been fishing the stretch for 5 hours. Hmm, hope he's left me some. At the bridge, catch the smallest trout I have ever seen, I thought it was one of the obligatory minnows. The final walk is to my 'banker' swim, where I can see grey shapes moving across the bottom. Soon get a feisty 12 oz grayling that makes such a splash, I fear its mates will be long gone, but within 5 minutes of more loose feeding, the shapes are back. Change the float depth and bait several times, but can't seem to get them to take until with dusk closing in, they seem to disappear. Put on a caster for the last 5 minutes. I've never caught much on caster, they always seem to burst and don't look as appetising as maggots, but the float goes down, and there's a sparkling grayling of exactly a pound to make it a fun trip.

My first evening session after the clocks went back. With a light frost that morning and the threat of even lower temperatures tonight under still, clear skies, a blank would have been disappointing, but not inconceivable. Nothing for an hour, before I brought in a very welcome 5lb 10 common, one of those fish that broke the surface as soon as it was hooked and insisted on surfing throughout the fight. With the swim still reeling from the disturbance, my float, not 10ft from my feet, gave a perfect lift-bite and I was in to a good fish. All carp seem to give heavyweight fights on the centrepin reel, no matter what size they turn out to be, so I just hung on as usual while dusk turned to night around me. When I finally saw it, I got the idea that it was actually quite a nice fish,. A few more runs later in came a chunky monkey common of 17lb 8. I sat smirking for the next hour wile the temperature fell sharply to 3 degrees. I decided to pack up at 7, and with everything packed except net and rod, it was almost pulled into the dark water, as my 3.5 hour session ended with a third common of 6lb 7. ps - apologies for the pic - I've not really got the hang of this nocturnal photography lark.

I thought I'd save you yet more of the same thing by condensing the last three trips into one post. My plans to migrate to the rivers/canals for winter were delayed for a further week as (1) my Tuesday afternoon slot takes my only evening slot and I just feel more comfortable fishing lakes than the crayfish-filled rivers in the dark and (2) the forecast for Friday and Saturday were billed as being very wet, and I felt hiding under a brolly was slightly less uncomfortable lakeside. Tuesday - A skimmer and 3 x commons - 6lb 10, 7lb 12 and 5lb 5 on three different baits The final two being on a star-lited float in the margins on the centrepin were particularly exciting. Friday - with strong winds, rain, but an air pressure of less than 1,000mb, I hoped the carp would be throwing themselves on the bank. And so it proved in the morning at least, with commons of 8lb 5, 4lb 8, 8lb 8 and 8lb 2 supplemented by mirrors of 6lb and 5lb 6 during on/off torrential rains. However, no matter what I tried, the afternoon brought nothing but mercifully fairer weather and the obligatory skimmer. Saturday - I spent the first hour sitting in the car as the rain lashed the windscreen before venturing out. The same surface chop as yesterday, but for the first four hours I couldn't buy a bite. To prevent the possibility of a blank, I set up my light float rod and from the first cast, had 13 roach to 6 ounces, 5 rudd, 3 bream and a perch. With half an hour to go, the float sank again an this time it was a proper fish. Ponderous at first, when the coin dropped it fought very hard and took all of those final 30 minutes to land. It came in at only 8lb 5, but my knots and forearms had passed the test and salvaged the day. Hurrah!

A mixed day. I predominantly fished the margins on a virtually deserted lake. Within 5 minutes, I'd hooked a good carp on float fished single corn dipped in my top secret ingredient, that had the centrepin screeching and took me right, left and central before falling off the hook, unseen, after around 10 minutes of fun. If this wasn't annoying enough, I then missed bite after bite after bite, the float dragging under every 5 minutes or so, yet I couldn't hit any of them. I began to suspect crays, but one finally stuck, for 10 seconds anyway, before the charging fish also fell off the hook, and the bite-missing routine resumed. I changed baits, swapped from lift-method to shirt-button and changed the depth, but still the bites came and went and after 3 hours I'd had loads of activity but was still blanking. Frustrated, I changed to method feeder, and threw into the baited area in front of me, and finally got a strong rod-tip pull and was in ... to a 2 ounce roach on double corn! I reckoned it was those horrors that had been fiddling with the corn giving me false bites, so I decided to play them at their own game and lighten the tackle even further to a size 16 hook and the maggots left over from yesterday. This accounted for a large number of tiny roach (including the frighteningly goggle-eyed one pictured here) and perch to the point it was getting boring, and I switched back to the method feeder. Then an amazing thing happened. The strengthening breeze led to a huge birds nest around my reel, and while cussing and trying to untie it, the feeder was in the water, maybe a foot from the bank in front of me. The process took a while and I was wondering if I just should have broken the line and started again, when the rod was almost pulled out of my hands. With the line still snagged around the reel, all I could do was grab the landing net and thrust it into the boiling surface and pulled in a 8lb 5 mirror and several more pounds of bankside vegetation. Robbed of the chance to fight for freedom, it flapped around furiously on the mat as I managed somehow to unhook and return it. With signs of fish close in, I spent the last hour back on double maggot, for 11 roach up to 6 ounces, a skimmer, a 6lb common with a stomach growth making up at least a pound of this, and finally a rather battered but still beautiful crucian of 2lb 5 (no doubts of its ID this time, Chris!)

The plan was to go for the perch on the canal at first light, then walk to the nearby river for the rest of the session. It turned out a day of three halves: 1st: Having bruised my knuckle opening the stubborn metal gate, the first chilly morning of the year (3 degrees) helped stem the blood flow. The perch were still reasonably active, with six coming in the first hour of daylight ,with two about a pound. 2nd. I made my debut fishing the weirpool, squeezed between two alder stumps for a few tiny roach and one clonking great dace. After an hour I moved on to a straight stretch of the river known as parliament drive. Here I managed to get a shoal of roach feeding, and had nine, two of which were a good half pound+. I lost a few, then added hemp to the loose feeding to hold them. But then the west wind fired up, creating quite a chop and making me think my presentation via a 4AAA loafer was not as controlled as it had been, and the bites stopped. 3rd. I moved swims, and while baiting it up, managed to stick my hand into excrement, which I told myself at the time was not human, but I strongly suspect was. There were no bites here either trotting the maggs or after switching to a legered lob. Back to my 'roach' swim, there was nothing going despite prebaiting again with maggs with the odd ball of mashed bread for 15 minutes before recasting.. With the prevailing wind still prevalent, I moved again, to a more sheltered section with a footbridge. I prebaited judiciously, but not a single bite on the trot, or the legered worm. I'm starting to think that the chub are laughing at me, I just can't seem to catch one.

I was reminded that my Tuesday evening sessions are coming to an end as it felt like it was already getting dark when I arrived at 3:30. With a full moon and a lower air pressure, I had hoped that the Willows piscatorial population might be more forthcoming than of late, though the on/off rain strong south wind that was whipping the surface all evening raised more than a doubt. I snatched a 4lb 5 common on method feeder, but with the few anglers telling me of poor returns frim their day, I was at least assured of not blanking. So I set up my float rod and centrepin earlier than expected to float fish the margin with single corn dipped in my trade secret flavouring. I had four bites: 1st* - A good fish that roared off towards the middle, sending the centrepin screeching, but causing the 5lb hook length to snap after a heart-thumping 10seconds. 2nd - A magnificent fight. It is so much more fun on a centrepin. This one took line again and again and again. The fight, the best bit about fishing, even more than the excited anticipation of the initial bite, lasted over 20 minutes. I've only been fishing this way recently, and was wondering whether a 'big' fish could be caught on lighter tackle, particularly after several losses - but this one came in at a splendid 14lb mirror, and there was never a serious doubt that I wouldn't land it. 3rd* - Wow. The fish went mental. It took the bait a yard out and set off like a rocket, heading away from me parallel to the bank. If there had been anglers to my left, I would have crossed lines with them all. It just wouldn't stop. I did my best to add resistance to the drum with my palm, but nothing would slow it. Though I was only a third of the way along the bank, with yard after yard of line being torn off the reel. I was seriously concerned that it was heading for, and would reach, the reeds in the far north corner, maybe 50 yards away. You cant lock down a centrepin like you can a fixed spool, but I maximised the strain giving as much palm pressure as I could...then the hook pulled free. With the slow retrieve of the centrepin it took over a minute to wind back in. Heart breaking, but Incredible. 4th - A 7lb 11 mirror - a good fish really, but a tiddler compared to bite #3. I felt there were more fish to be had on the cards, but with heavier rain due, I made the prudent decision to abort just at the right time: as I reached home it was torrential. * Hmm. The reel was loaded with the 4lb braid that I've been using for trotting, along with a 2.5ft 5lb mono hook length. I appreciate there is no stretch on the braid - do you think this might be why I lost the two fish? With my centrepin not having a spare spool, I couldn't be a*sed to change it to mono. Perhaps I should have been.

A Monday off, and squeezed in a couple of hours fishing, just as the rain started. Fished several swims, loose feeding with red maggots and trotting a 4AAA loafer down the shallow glides. Had a torpedo-shaped 1lb 6 brownie early on, but nothing more. Had a handful of bites that didn't connect for more than a second, and something snatch at one of the six minnows I snagged. Apart from being jeered by some schoolgirls, and a guy insisting that anything good had been caught and eaten by, lets say, our local immigrant population, that was that. Meh.

I was fishing the Kennet at Brimpton recently when a man passed me with a dustbin strapped to his back. You see all sorts on the rivers, so after an exchange of pleasantries I did not challenge him. Half an hour later he was back, and the bin was heaving full of large, grotesque signal crayfish. I was appalled. Turns out I had the pleasure of meeting Andrew Leech of the Artisan Fisherman Ltd of Thatcham who is fully licenced to trap and trade in crayfish. A lovely man, he estimated his barrel contained around 300 crayfish averaging, say 8-inches long. He said he returns every 2 or 3 days to empty the traps and hence removes an average of 1,000 crayfish per week in the 'season' and estimates he'd had 15,000 out of our half-mile stretch of the river this year so far! 15,000! I was appalled. I knew that as an invasive species signal crayfish were a problem, but had no idea of this vast scale, and I doubt many anglers do. Otters and cormorants quite rightly get the blame for fish predation, but I can't help thinking that the biggest issue for decline in native fish numbers is actually the crayfish: I can't believe there is a single fish egg left in the water with this level of crustaceans to support. You will see one of my photos shows a female crayfish with a large number of eggs on its tail, and am alarmed to read on Wiki that every crayfish can have a lifespan of up to 20 years! Oh, and as you might know, their burrows (or up to 2 metres) can seriously erode banks. As a result of this chance meeting, I have today written to the Angling Trust, Environment Agency, Inland Waterways Authority and Natural England asking for confirmation of what action they are taking. I’ll let you know what replies I get. Oh, and by the way, just for the record, in two morning sessions (I forgot to take my maggots for the first one - doh!) I had 2 x 1lb+ brownies, 1 small roach, 1 small dace and 3 minnows

Autumn is here, and while the books will all tell you that the carp are feeding hard, sensing the forthcoming winter, the continued unseasonable warmth has maybe stopped the message getting through. Little to report from 3 sessions frankly, with a mirror and 5 commons cross the piece - or should it be 4? - I caught the photo'd fish an hour after dark in single corn float fished about 2ft from the bank. It didn't give much of a fight, and was particularly well behaved on the unhooking mat. My lantern and camera flash weren't great, but what do you think it is? To me it has the body of a common, but the facial features of a crucian (including no barbule). I have passed the pic around a number of NAA dignitaries - with the voting currently standing as common (2), crucian (1) and F1(!)(1) I've gone with my fishing mentor, Mr Plumb and recorded it in my nerdy spreadsheet as a common. Shame - at 3lb 10oz it would have been a crucian pb. The only other thing to say is that with the method feeder being untroubled by fish, I loose-fed the margin in front of me and set up a lift-method float, single corn on 4lb braid/5lb hook length on a 15ft rod. OK, I went on to lost 3 carp (2 fell off the hook, the other my hook knot gave way - grr!) which may have helped make the stats more acceptable, but I have been converted. The fight on a centrepin is amazing fun. Even the 6lb-er took line screaming against the ratchet many times. Much more enjoyable than dragging them in on a leger rod! The fun bit is a fish on the line, so why not make the most of it?

A couple of pretty crabby days. Friday was a comparatively cold start from recent days and I suspected it might be slower. It was. Soon after arriving, a strong, cold and to my mind, unforecast southerly wind, It was a struggle and the bait only troubled by a 3lb 6 Mirror. When times get tough you try anything, and when the sun finally came out and though the wind remained, I gave a black foam zig suspended 2ft from the bottom a go. Result: Ha! a 7lb 1oz bream! Saturday would have seen a trip to the river, but rain was due and hiding under a brolly just seemed less unpleasant on a lake. Anyway, it couldn't be as bad two days running, could it. It could. Fishing in the corner the wind was blowing might be the instruction from the books I've read, but there was nothing doing. I moved to the lee-side of the island where I wondered if the fish would be sheltering from the chop, I managed a small rudd and a perch on float and then a 4lb 8 mirror on swimfeeder. Meh.

Two more trips to my fave lake chasing the carp before they hunker down in the cold and go off their feed. Saturday. Slow. I was told it had dropped off since my Harvest moonlit fun on Tuesday (maybe because of its waning?). Tried a bit of everything, and though I lost a couple, just three carp of 8lb 4, 4lb 8 and 6lb 14 was below par. Tuesday. Unable to do any work for today's employer as their computer system was irrecoverably down. As the job is wholly reliant on access to data bases, I became a professional angler for 4 hours when I got to go fishing but was still paid for the day. The showers - the first rain in a while - were occasionally heavy and driven in by strong southerly winds which I followed into the north corner, but didn't get a single bite until my usual after work arrival time. Moral justice, some would say. In the final three hours, the carp took pity on me and sent me Commons of 6lb 11, 11lb, 7lb 15, 6lb 6 and 6lb 10 as well as Mirrors of 5lb and 3lb 10. At 6:30 I would have packed up and gone home as the rain was lashing down so hard, I wanted to cower under my brolly as the water ran off my gear and into the lake, but the fish had other ideas. The last three carp came in quick succession during the worst of the downpour and while I'm sure there were more to be caught, I was soaked to the skin and had to abandon.

The first feeling of autumn. Despite a near 20-degree 3pm start and a stillness in the air, it was quite chilly and dewy as I packed up an hour after dark as the harvest moon was rising. Anticipating fish on the surface, I aimed to repeat last Saturday's surprise catch with a foam zig rig. The carp weren't on show until I pinged in a few biscuits. Within two minutes I had 4 wheeling terns plus 3 moorhens and 2 coots in my swim waiting for the next ping. The carp were almost as quick on the scene, and a bird v fish battle commenced. Safe with the knowledge that my hook was 6 inches below bird-level, I pinged with impunity and had 2 commons of 6lb 12 and 7lb 12. Both very violent takes and massive fights for such comparatively small fish - maybe the sheer indignity of falling for half-inch stubs of foam drove them to greater strength. As if a switch had flicked, the carp stopped swirling and ignored any more biscuits, so I switched to method feeding on the bottom. The next two hours brought mirrors of 9lb, 11lb 10 and 8lb 15, plus a last cast common of 6lb 2. A great fun evening.

Friday: A bonus early morning 3 hours. Despite being put off seeing a guy fishing topless in shorts while I was considering running back to the car for a third layer, I was warmed by two sparkling mirrors of 9lb and 8lb 15. It was one of those mornings where the quivertip was trembling throughout, but despite changing baits, I didn't manage to convert the action to bites. Lost one at the end which would have made it a great sneaked session. Saturday: 7:30am til 2:30. An autumnal misty start with hard fighting early mirror of 11lb 15, commons of 5lb 6, and 5lb (my third one-eyed carp here...?) plus a bonus crucian that didn't give a bite but was there on the end when I wound in. When it went quiet I swapped to a float for an hour and chucked hemp and maggot close in for 18 roach (all tiny except for 2 half-pounders and a clunking 12 ouncer) and 9 perch between 2 and 6 ounces all seemingly with pot bellies. With an hour to go I switched back to method feeder to attempt a final carp, but within minutes there were carp cruising along the surface pretty much everywhere. That's when it happened. Thinking it wasn't worth bottom-feeding for them, and having no surface baits nor aptitude for fishing this way, I kept the feeder unit on, but replaced the 4-inch hook length with a 3ft one from which to suspend a home assembled yellow foam zig. I had no faith that any carp would be taken in by such an artificially shaped, madly coloured, atrocious bit of haberdashery floating 6-inches under the surface, but with only 45 minutes left thought there was nothing to lose. Blimey. Two minutes later the rod was virtually pulled in and thus started a ten-minute battle of man v fish as it made run after run against the drag. I was so relieved to land it, and could not believe it was a common of 'only' 7lb 9, it fought like one twice its weight. Boy, I was the self-appointed King of Fishing. I felt like doing a lap of honour showing all the other anglers my measly little rig and showing them the attached picture of my reward. So I didn't catch any more in the remaining half hour or so, but my smile was, and still is, fixed.