Tuesday, 25 August 2009

Sometimes I Just Can't Help Myself....

Friday 21st August, 20:00 - 22:45. Brandon Marsh. Dark by 20:45! Cooling later.

I have very little self-control and am often an impulsive and driven individual when it comes to fishing.

My self-imposed Brandon moratorium lasted little more than two days once I returned from my holiday. The theory was to 'step away from the Brandon' for the remainder of August and to fish elsewhere to remind myself what catching fish was like. But come the end of two days back at work and being deprived of the English countryside for so long images of Brandon swirled around my brain in quiet moments or as I tried to sleep at night.

I took a couple of pints of particles and some nuts and fished a light waggler lift style on a Barbel rod and centrepin at close range. I arrived at dusk (rod already set up) and crept into position. I even did without my chair and left it behind on the bank as I thought it would make too much noise on the boards.

A swan saw me arrive and came over to have a nut party - I'd bought the nibbles. This prevented me chucking any loose bait in for the first half hour whilst I tried to persuade it that it should go away in short jerky movements.

Eventually it started feeding about twenty yards away and every time it put it's head under the water I managed to get a handful of bait out. I was watching it out of the corner of my eye and when it's head came back up and looked at me I looked away nonchalantly - I did everything but whistle as if to look as if I was up to nothing.

My mood was earnest and I sat still as a Heron for almost three hours as I was fishing so close in, moving slowly and deliberately, and only when my legs went sleep.

I might as well have been sitting in the middle of a roundabout in town looking like a prick for all it was worth though.

Apart from two sideways indications on the float which I interpreted as large fish leaving the cover to my left and moving out into the main body of the lake the float remained as still as the lump on the other end of the rod. Of course I struck at the sideways indications but touched nothing.

I left with my state of mind back where it was before my holiday and the moratorium back on, concreted in and with a barbed wire fence around it so no bugger could lift it.


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