Picking up on Jeff's theme I am heading for a Royal Blank. Pretty fitting as most of the shops on Deeside are by royal appointment. I notice the local chippy where we intend to dine this evening is missing the crest above the door however. Would Ma'am like a saveloy to dip in her curry sauce?
Rob at least has had a run in with a rock which turned into a salmon but that seems so long ago now he's no longer drawing upon it for inspiration.
We both fished hard again today. Really hard. Apart from forty five minutes at lunch neither of us relented in the rhythm of the cast all day.
We are both exceptionally focused. If you'd have seen us arriving at the beat this morning you could have mistaken us for business men stepping out of the car to clinch some big business deal. Barely a word was spoken until the ghillie turned up and lightened our mood. Before this we operated efficiently, changing leaders, donning waders and waistcoats and preparing for another day of what is becoming our 'mission'.
Each morning we force ourselves to remember that our daily routine is: up at seven twenty, full English at eight, at the beat before nine and in the water just after. Fish or no fish I know next week we'd swap our alternative routine for this any day.
Today I resorted to Mongolian throat singing my way down one whole pool in a bid to persuade any salmonids in the area I was some shaman from the Altai mountains. It didn't work.
Next I sought to entertain them by reciting (as best I could) the 'Death Star Canteen' sketch - "Are you Mr Stephenson?". If you haven't seen it I suggest you look it up immediately on you tube. "You'll still need a tray". That didn't work either.
This morning was the first day we needed an alarm to wake us up. On previous mornings we've both woken before it had a chance to sound, eager with anticipation. My body is also starting to betray my brains aspirations. Most things ache, that's a given, but certain joints are rebelling against my work ethic.
Tomorrow we move into what we know as 'extra time'. A blank saving fish on a Saturday would be nice but it leaves little opportunity to celebrate it, especially with the long drive looming on Sunday.
You want to look at a couple of my holiday photos, huh, punk?:
What you looking at?
Fockey Jife from top to bottom.