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After last Friday's bumper haul, I'm keen to give it a go in the same swim. There's a slight chill in the air first thing which perhaps explains the lack of the fishy surface movement seen last week. It's fairly quiet on the bottom too, though 'takes' at 6:30 and 7:30 both end with fish dropping off the hook after several minutes of playing. Later in the morning, my luck changes, and in come a 7lb 2 common, tench of 2lb 6 and 21lb 10. Then a mirror of 7lb 10 and more commons of 6lb 10, 6lb 4, 7lb 7 and 8lb 8 all before midday. Then the fish gods take against me, and though I see the carp patrolling up and down as they did last Friday, I get nothing more than 3 strong takes that didn't 'hook' and yet another dropped fish on its way in. And yes, I did check the hook and it was sharp. The rest of the afternoon was spent grimacing at the hideous amount of greenbottles all persisting in standing on my drying landing net

Never try to repeat a success, they say, so after my over 150lb haul at Willows yesterday, I thought I'd give the carp a rest and pit my newly discovered angling skills at Dobsons. Patches of feeding bubbles punctuated my swim all morning, but bites were of a premium no matter what method or bait I tried to tempt them with. Ended up with a tench of 3lb 10 and two bream of 1lb 2 and 5lb. Bit of an anticlimax I suppose, though I did get hook something big towards the end that shot for the snags at 100mph and despite 12lb line, that was that.

All started pretty standard. Set up a float as there was fishy movement close to shore, and after 3 hours, had 2 commons of 4lb 6 and 6lb 8, plus a bream (unweighed) of around a pound. Bites slowed and with the sun starting to climb and having seen some movement two thirds of the way to the island, I chucked a method feeder at them, rather than tight to the island, as seems to be the fashion. This suggestion was pooh-poohed by one of the revered club denizens on his daily stroll. He was only trying to be helpful, and we both chuckled as the buzzer went and in came another common of 6lb 12. Fish, eh? He went on his way, and over the next few hours I landed commons of 7lb 6, 7lb 10, 6lb 10, 5lb 6, 5lb 11, 5lb 3, 5lb 2, 5lb 4, 5lb 11, 5lb 3, 8lb 15, 5lb 10, 7lb 8, 7lb 14, 5lb 5, 7lb 4, mirrors of 8lb 10, 10lb 9, 5lb 1 and bream of 5lb 6 & 6lb 2 It was mad. It just didn't stop. I lost 4 seemingly bigger fish too, but having totted it up, am delighted enough to have passed the 150lb mark. Pulling in fish after fish became rather tiring, but what a day. The smile on my face was huge, and could not be dislodged even when the bobbin stuck to the line as I struck, lifting the bite alarm and rod rest and sending them irretrievable out in the water. While winding in fish after fish, I had several thoughts: - I wondered if the carp had come away from the island because of the low water level. - OK, so I lost those 4 fish, but to have just one of over 9lb was unusual - Out of 22 carp, for only 3 to be mirrors seemed a statistical anomaly - Did I have enough beer in the fridge to celebrate the day when I got home

A good fun evening started with two missed bites and a 7lb 15 common within the first 10 minutes. I'd half an idea that it might be good going as the afternoon had brought the first rain in weeks and weeks following the lower air pressures and temperatures of the heat wave that has been threatening hose bans and our sanity. A lovely fat 12lb mirror soon followed before the deluge came. I huddled under the brolly for a good 45 mins while the rain crashed down. It was beautiful. It also meant i could hardly see my float on the thrashed surface, and no bites were registered until it had passed. It then went mirror 7lb, mirror 7lb (don't think it was the same fish?), common 12lb 14, common 3lb 2 and common 6lb 9. I moved into the margins until dark, bringing in crucians of 2lb 6, 15 oz and 1lb 4. The only downer was the discovery of a dead bream, circa 4/5lb, or at least it would have been, if it still had its head. Mink, I guess. I have seen two recently. the fishery management team have been advised.

The ploy of starting at 5am to overcome the torpor of another 32 degree plus day ultimately backfired. My two modest carp came either side of midday, with the number of smallish bream that came from time to time not making it anything other than a tough day. The highlight was the company of my neighbour and new fishing pal, Chris, who was fishing for the first time since 1998. I've not seen such a smile as wide at his reintroduction to the noble art, though the fish god's chose only to bless him with a number of hook-swallowing tiddler perch and a few roach and bream. I wish he'd been allowed a greater bend in his rod than a single, hook-length snapping tench. Next time, Chris, and thanks for taking the pic. Not the prettiest of fish, but then neither am I.

A second consecutive weekend away allowing me to fish on Monday afternoon and my usual Tuesday evening. Was turned away from Willows by the fire brigade on Monday, kids having set a fire in the tinder dry reed beds. Turned back to my nemesis, Bellwood. On what must be my 6th or so trip there, I've not caught anything more than half a pound, and my paltry 4 roach for 5 ounces barely troubled the scorers. Are you sure it's got fish in? The fire engines had gone by Tuesday, and within 5 minutes, a 5lb common had blitzed yesterday's feeble display. in 30 degree heat, the bites kept coming, though I missed plenty. I ended up with another splashy common of 9lb 10 and a 5lb mirror, two tench either side of the 2lb mark, and a number of small roach, a bream and a single rudd. The biggest fish came in the margin on a big lump of bread at the end. It tugged hard on the pole for a good while before dragging me into the lilies. Though I got it out together with a decent amount of vegetation, the combined weight was too much for the hook, which pulled and that was that. Still, it was a fun evening.

Two afternoon trips to try out my new pole either side of a few days away. For the first, I went chasing the large roach that are meant to have been jumping out at Knotts. Plenty of bites, though I had to keep switching float depth and baits to keep them coming Did manage 23 of the silvery red-finners, but none bigger than 4 ounces. Nearer the margin later on, I extracted 3 small perch, and a spritely 15 ouncer. But bites dried up completely towards dusk and I packed up early. In the meantime, a rod set with a method feeder cast out to my left didn't get a touch. Back from holiday early enough for a short stint at Willows. The elastic really got tested. Commons of 8lb 10, 5lb 7, 12lb and 5lb 3, a Mirror of 9lb 10 and tench of 1lb 11 and 3lb 4. Adding 2 lost fish, it was quite a 3 hours. Some of the bites were very delicate and made me wonder if I'd have missed them on standard float tackle. I prefer fishing/playing fish on rod and line, but will have to think, as rarely have I pulled out so many in such a short time.

First light had me casting my float adjacent to one of the few lily patches believing the fish would be hanging around seeking oxygen. And so they were, at first, and quite soon I had a few roach to my name. The next sink of the float had me spending over half an hour playing a very annoyed carp. With the water as warm as soup, his energy seemed boundless and time and again he took line and refused to come anywhere near me. Eventually he got bored, or felt sorry for me and in he came. A good looking fella he was too, but a mere 8lb 4. He's going to be quite the catch when he grows up. Around 10am the sun hit the water and the bites slowed. Except for one. I was fishing to the left of the lilies when something objected being hooked so much that it ploughed straight into and through them, tearing yards of line. When it finally stopped running, I tugged, but was isolated from the fish by the lilies. I let the line sit limp for 5 minutes, then tugged again, but the inevitable snap came. Note to self: I must ask CP, the master of fishing the lilies, what he does when a fish dives deep into the vegetation. I didn't want to risk losing another float and terminal tackle and more importantly, leaving a hooked fish, so I switched to throw a method feeder at the island and soon had a pretty 5lb mirror. With the forecast cloud cover having not materialised, I was scorching in the ever-rising sun. I turned to my new pole before the maggots I'd brought sizzled. This was a good move, with many small roach and perch, a 1lb 4 tench and two lovely crucians of about 10oz each. Amongst these came another hard-fighting common, 8lb 2 this time. It's the first fish of any size I've had on the pole and thus the first time I'd seen the elastic in action. I'd wondered what it would feel like and while it's always lovely to catch a fish, I did seem to be just a case of hanging on and letting the elastic do all the work, rather than having any active part in the fight that you get with a rod and reel. This said, I probably wouldn't have got the bite on the rod. Hmm, I remain undecided, but will certainly use it again.

You may recall that temperatures on Monday were due to reach 36 degrees - far too much for my gardening work, so I cancelled that and attempted to stay cool on a swim situated between two large trees that shaded me for all but the middle of the day. It was predictably hard going, and though I changed methods and depths throughout, only ended up with a battle-weary warty old bream of 4lb 2 its smaller relation of 1lb 6, a tenchlet of 1lb 14 and a dozen or so roach and perch to 10oz. If youdo recall Monday, then Tuesdays 40 degrees will still be burning in your mind. As I left my home office at 3pm, I could barely handle the steering wheel, it was that hot. I limped in to a deserted Dobsons to see a few dozen carp cruising just under the surface in the shallow carpark end. I chucked in 2 zig rigs at them set at their depth, but after an hour, though I'd seen many fish swim by, but hadn't had a twitch. Then the carp seemed to disappear from view completely so I changed tactics to a method feeder and lift method float. In the intensely hot air, I struggled for bites, apart from the local insect population, and scraped just a 14oz bream and a few paltry perch. A few days later I bumped into the Fishery Manager. I didn't tell him of my poor catches. 'Wasn't it f'king hot on Tuesday,' he said. 'Only a f'kin idiot would expect to catch any f'king fish in that.' I nodded and changed the subject. Maybe he had a point.

An evening session and an all-dayer, both in high heat. I thought the ease in temperature on Tuesday evening would bring the little darlings out for their tea, but just had the two bream of 1lb 4 and 5lb 6. Did lose a largish-carp which might have made it a less disappointing session. For the first tow hours of light on Friday morning, I watched delicious feeding bubbles all over my baited areas, but neither a method fed wafter to my left, or cage fed corn to the right were on their breakfast menu. The sun hit the water and counterintuitively woke them up. In came an 8lb 5 common, bream of 6lb 5, 4lb 12, 4lb 11, 1lb and 1lb 1, two 7ox roach and a 3lb 12 tench. At 10am I brought out the big guns - my first pole - a Garbolino 9.5m carp pole, purchased from, and kindly elasticated up my Tony at Thatcham Angling. I was not as clumsy with it as I'd feared. Sure, I bumped a number of fish shipping in, but I caught plenty of roach and perch. Only one tugged the elastic; lovely 8-ounce roach, but it was a positive experience. Only 2 issues: gregarious tiny perch made fishing maggot an impossibility, and the scorching sun made the black surface of the pole uncomfortably hot to handle. It all calmed down in the afternoon sun, but had been a good day.

Right, a fresh approach was required after such a slack June. Those fish have been laughing at me. A new tactic at my favourite Dobson's swim. Rather than the float one rod length out, I put on a cage fighter, I mean feeder, and clipped up my line, despite my concern that anything decent could swim away to destruction. I stuffed the feeder with corn and a plug of groundbait and aimed it into the distance where I'd seen feeding bubbles in recent weeks. Here, in line with various You Tube videos I'd watched, I recast every five minutes for an hour to build up a bed of bait, reducing to every ten minutes after an hour had elapsed. In the third hour I started to get bite after bite. Really subtle ones which made me wonder how many I might have missed in the winds that have blown at me so often of late. I missed lots, but ended up with two bream to 1lb 3 and 5 roach. One of the roach was a real old warrior and I weighed it gleefully hoping it might just tip the scales at a pound, but it refused to go any more than 14 ounces. The bites slowed down, but not until I'd had a bonus 6lb 12 Common. OK, a total of 9lb wasn't going to win me Fishomania, but I felt I'd earned every bite and I'll be trying again there soon.

A last chance to make amends for the month. My nerdy spreadsheet shows that June 2021 brough a total weight of 221lbs 7oz, while this crummy month has limped to 118lb 2oz with just this session to go. Regular readers will know that I've being finding it quite scratchy for weeks now, and tonight was no different. The wind which has accompanied so many of my recent trips was here again, blowing hard from the south causing a proper surf, ruling out my intended float fishing plan. So method feeder it was, either against the far bank or along the margin. I had to set my tacklebox on the bank edge to shelter the bobbin and stop the wind rocking it like a pendulum. Despite the clear sense of danger, much to my surprise I managed not to kick it into the drink with my clumsy size 12s. My chances had been improved thanks due to a lack of activity on the bank. Wrapped in the winter jacket I had run to the car for, I was troubled by just two fish - a 4lb 10 Common and a very pretty little Crucian, with the only fish of any potential significance dropping off just before the net. Roll on July.

Three very different sessions. Tuesday evening, I spent longest evening in the heat of Willows, float fishing where in recent visits I'd seen good feeding bubbles a rod-length out, but had been too windy to float fish. It's always fab to watch that quarter-of-an-inch tip of orange, but admittedly it would have been even better if I'd had a few more bites. Shallowed up for 3 small roach in as many minutes which broke the blank, but wasn't what I was after, so I switched to the trusted method feeder in the distant margin and managed a much welcomed 6lb common. Towards dusk the long awaiting bubble patches started appearing at my baited swim, but back on float, I missed the one bite that came my way. It was little consolation that none of the handful of other anglers appeared to catch and a good pal didn't have as much as bite all evening on the adjacent Alders. Friday was my first river trip of the year at the wonderful solitude of the Lamb Stream who have kindly allowed me to join their syndicate this season. With almost all swims overgrown with summer bankside vegetation I alternated several times between the two main available and attractive swims for a largely disappointing day. I swapped between trotting and link legering for 4 bleak, 1 bream (2lb 3), a chublet, 4 dace a perch, 14 small roach and 3 of the biggest crayfish I've ever landed. Did see a Kingfisher (twice), so it wasn't all bad. Saturday morning was fun. One of my customers is hosting a Ukrainian family during the troubles and I had the please of taking their eldest 12 and 10-year-old sons fishing. They were delightful, extremely respectful and well-behaved throughout, though very scared of the maggots! They picked up casting very quickly, and having been taught English at school, were even gracious enough to laugh at my jokes. Sadly, in our three hours, nothing more fishy than one sucked maggot, though after we repaired to the far more exciting Burger King, they appeared keen try again another day.

At last, at last, the new season is here with rivers and canals coming into play, so where do I end up on Friday? Back on the lakes. I decided that the recent good weather would have the canals busy with too many of those boats, angry swans and ghastly paddle-boarders for my blood pressure to endure. The river sections I favour also seem weedy of bank and water on recent scouting mission, and with temperatures forecast of thirty degrees I plumped for the lakes where I would not suffer the physical exertions of regular casting and could hide in whatever shade I could find. Was snapped by a biggy at 5am. I calculated this to be 25% tackle shortcoming with the initial surge of the fish finding a weak point in my 12lb line after 75% angler error having the drag set just a little too tightly. Just like Tuesday, there were feeding bubbles everywhere, but nothing touched anything I presented to them until 9am, when after a tench of 1lb 3 I had Mirrors of 6lb 4, 9lb and 8lb 4 in a breathless hour. Feeling I was the King of Fishing about to empty the lake, a feisty south wind got up and never stopped. Though much of the water in my swim was black with carp just under the surface, faces pointing into it the wind, not one was attracted by my zig-rig even when bobbing right in front of their noses. I gave up when the sun was too high to allow shelter from any tree and the lure of the pub was too great. Saturday, a different kettle of, err, fish. This time I was put off the rivers by the threat of having float and line blown into the trees by strong northerly winds . A shorter session in squally showers had the same high level of chop on the water, but 180 degrees away from yesterday's direction. 24 hours after fishing when an Angling Direct bikini would have been the order of the day, I was now returning to the car to get a warming gilet to go over my fleece. The fish were equally baffled because not a lot came out of the water, though I did manage a single Common of 9lb 1 and lost a nice one on the zig rig, still unseen, after a 10 minute battle.

Right, a big full moon, so a chance to test the theory about how this might affect fish behaviour. With hot sun and a brisk west breeze, 3pm til 8pm proved pretty hopeless with just one tench, albeit a pretty one of over a pound. With the heat of the day waning, 8pm til 9pm was frustrating. My swim by the lilies produced cloud after cloud of pin-prick feeding bubbles and had some large tench rolling within feet of my float, but fishing corn on a size 14, I missed bite after bite. Even switching to artificial corn on a hair rig didn't snag any until 9am when one finally stuck. I had to clamp down to keep it out of the lilies but instead of the hoped-for tench it was a 5lb 6 Common. With the bow waves from the resultant fight still crossing the lake, I did my usual trick of switching rods to a method feeder while I rested the lily swim. Before I'd even put the rod down something had taken it on the drop and was now headed for the island some 40 yards away. I was never going to cajole it back past the lily pads to my right, so I held the rod high and manoeuvred it and the landing net, whose frame had snapped earlier in the session, to an adjacent swim. The net held, which considering it was a beautiful fat 18lb mirror, I was rather relieved about. With no other bites in the final 45 mins, a disappointing trip had become a memorable one, albeit the jury was still out on the effect of the moon. ps - sorry, in the fading light this isn't the greatest pic I've ever taken.

I've combined three sessions, none of which really deserved a post in their own right. Everyone I've spoken to bankside say they've found catches sketchy of late. Well, I suppose the weather has been Spring-like (albeit we are a week from midsummer day), and let's face it, we've all had spawning on the mind. Maybe its a good argument for adhering to the traditional close season. On the other hand, it's been lovely to ditch the gloves and thermals and absorb the sun like the grass snake that swam a few feet from me at Dobsons. I would not have wanted to miss the cuckoo that has been calling for 6 weeks now nor the occasional sight of the kingfisher piercing air above the water. My first trip to Willows for some weeks saw the carp on the surface. I snagged a 6lb-er on a zig before switching to a float in the margins for the evening. This brought no bites at all, but seeing a shoal of carp playing on the surface at twilight, I pinged a method feeder their way. Within minutes, the 8lb hook link proved no match for the power of a sudden violent take, the bolt from the angered fish causing four of its shoal mates to jump clear of the water. Note to self: maybe set the bait runner to reduce the potentially terminal effect of such an instant surge: the hook lins seemed good when tested, but that's a few that have snapped in the middle at the initial take. Friday. A whole day at Dobsons. Having landed 2 Commons at just over 6lb each before 6am I anticipated a good day. But in strong sun and blustery winds I only managed a modest bream and a handful of roach in the rest leaving me bitter and twisted. Saturday. A bonus day when the joyous Covid infection of a family member cancelled by planned trip. Two bites at Willows, one a hard fighting 12lb 14 Mirror, the other a 7lb 4 Common on a day where no one seemed to be catching much, and the wind buffeted my body and soul.

Hmmm. OK, a week away between visits, but nothing to write home about in any, so you'll just have to make do, I'm afraid. 21st - 25 fish in total, biggest a 1lb perch, though a pretty good carp straightened my hook out. 2nd - 22 fish. Some nice roach among them, but nothing more than 12 ounces 3rd - 1 roach, 1 perch for 3 ounces in 7 hours I've fallen off a cliff. Thank goodness for Peter G, who accompanied me on the last trip and while he wasn't puling in bream after me and roach after roach, entertained me throughout with jokes, magic tricks and his amazing array of home-invented tackle. Well fished, PG. No photo to include, this pic is as close to a decent fish as I came.

A treat for me to have a fishing day with the revered PeterJG. I arrived at 5:15am to find my partner already set up on the bank, rods out and primed for hot fishing action. However, being the gent that he is, Peter insisted on not catching anything while I set up, and for a good hour or more afterwards.Naturally, I returned the compliment and we both remained biteless before I eventually broke the protocol with an 8oz bream. It was a strange day. Very enjoyable, but with the fish cagey and an unpleasant 2-hour burst of rain right up til lunch time. By close of play that afternoon, I'd managed 17 roach, at least half over 4oz with several in the 8-10oz bracket plus a few perch. The highlight (beyond smirking at PJG's excellent supply of jokes) was a tench. This came when my float was only a foot away from the bank, and came as a complete surprise to both me and fish. It came in after a pretty puny fight at a rather splendid 6lb 2oz, and a new pb for me. This was supplemented by a second, equally passive tench at 5lb 1. I was denied the hattrick after a third decent connect led to a seemingly bigger fish dropping of the hook unseen. It's two line-stealing drives were slow and lumpen making me think that it was just maybe a bigger tench yet rather than a carp, but alas I will never know. As our brollies steam-dried in the afternoon sun, Peter made me roar with laughter once more with tales of his boilie-making experiments of years gone by. 'One,' he told me, ' I christened Blue Moon as that's how often you got a fish with it. Another, I told the lads on the bank, I called Millennium Mix as you only caught one fish every 1,000 years on it!' I left Peter to it, to catch the fishes of the day that he deserved. I trust they turned up.

With the wind dropped after yesterdays Westerlies, I headed for the east bank to where I hoped the fish had been blown. I had a really enjoyable session on the hottest morning of the year and a real mixed bag. A 7lb 4 common and 4lb 8 bream were the only heavy weights, but most fun came on the float less than a rod length out. 2 more bream, 3 perch, and 19 roach, most between 5 and 12 ounces. In a spell when I had a roach shoal in front of me I struck into a bigger fish. Estimating it in fight at 1 to 2lbs, I was cursing when after 30 seconds or so later it dropped off the hook, unseen. So OK, it was probably a perch, or a small tench maybe, but I wish I'd had a glimpse of it. Had it been a roach? I'll never know. Fishing, huh?

(a) Tuesday evening. Alders. Unpleasant westerly wind made float fishing tricky. Had a 5lb bream after 15 minutes and that was it. A couple of additional bites was more than my counterpart had all session on the bank opposite me, so I was happy to have caught a fish. Very Alders. (b) Friday. Dobsons. Even more unpleasant westerly wind made float fishing tricky. Had a mad half hour mid-morning - a bite on float had me into a good fish. One fight later I had my net ready when up to the surface came.... a 4oz roach. Really? Was this really the fish I'd strived to quell? Well, sort of. It would have been an 8oz roach, but unbeknownst to me a pike must have snatched as I hooked it and not let go til the last mo. While this was happening, the buzzer was making singe beeps on the other rod. The poor roach dealt with, I picked up the other rod as it started bouncing and started pulling in a deadweight. It was no surprise when twigs emerged as it neared the bank, but I was taken aback when it then started to pull away from me. Turned out there was a 4lb 4oz tench coming along for the ride with the vegetation. An enjoyable day in less than ideal conditions brought me 2 tench just over the 4lb mark, 16 perch to 10 ounces (mainly small) and 17 of Peter G's roach, a couple around the 12 ounce mark. The other highlight, a fish on the float that towed me everywhere, drove in then came out of the snags, and revealed itself to be a big ol' tench rather than the carp I'd been expecting. Certainly p.b. size, then then dropped off the hook at the net. Fishing, huh?

Coming downstairs on bank holiday morning anticipating a session of hoovering and spring cleaning, my wonderful Mrs suggested I go fishing for a few short hours instead. Before she'd even finished the sentence, I was running for the bait fridge. Chose Willows as best chance of a catch in the time available. Arrived at at 7am to find all the carp mouthing at the surface. Pellet waggled at them, but rather than stirring up an orgy of feeding, this seemed only to drive them to other areas of the lake. Caught a pounder tench on the method feeder against the island, but nothing else, so switched to a zig to intercept the carp in the higher water. Caught the one at 6lb 11 on a black piece of foam to make it an acceptable session. A bit bored of watching carp splash about and not being able to catch them, on Tuesday after work I went to Dobsons. Lost a good fish on method feeder which straightened out the hook, before missing bite after bite float fishing in 8ft of water. I tried hitting them early, then leaving them late. I swapped from maggot to corn, but I still couldn't hit them until one connected - a half pound bream. Any thoughts of what I should have done? The bites started to slow and I picked up nothing more than a few small perch on float, though I did lose something good in the snags. Highlight (even more than the kingfisher that shot across my swim) was the 5lb 9 tench, a real stocky, handsome fish that didn't give much of a fight, but charmed me immensely and represented my new p.b by an ounce. As dusk fell, I anticipated a livening up of sport. But nothing of the sort occurred. Not even a bite.

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.