mid section blues: Army Group 2 Insanity gets a grip at end of Season Bash

Well a day I thought I would note be part off arrived. Some fellow angles thought I had not been serious when I said at the last Todber match that , that was it. Match fishing could go and jump. July has seen some of my worst performances all grouped together. Only tempered by a good second place on the river at the weekend, where I say with some pride I fished well and took the scalp of many a good angler.

So that and encouragement from Kev East, and an outright order from my mate John Dewberry TO GET MY ARSE to the match and stop being a sulky wuss, meant that at 07.15 saw me eating a hearty breakfast at the Globe pub in Somerton. Breakfast done we had the AGM, which is of course private business.

Venue (Viaduct) car park filled with expectant anglers unloading kit and slapping on the sun tan lotion. The draw, well I was pushed forward by my fellow Orphan team mates - for once we were a three man team. My peg was exactly the same as the last Viaduct match 115. I arrived at the peg, and decided to treat it as a pleasure day, and just catch a few Carp.

The Lake looked a little turbid, but fish were feeding. John came along with words of encouragement, which was nice. Just enjoy yourself and keep it simple was the summary. So I started to unload the tackle determined to banish this past 6 weeks, sure the bad luck was behind me. First the ready rod bag. Now the point of a ready rod bag is rod set up already just click together and 10 seconds you done! So it was with some amazement that I found a birds nest of a tangle!!! I muttered a little "oh well", and I tried nervously to laugh it off, sure that this had to be only a shadow of the bad luck recently. A good 15 minutes later I had untangled it, and disentangled the hook trace which had weaved itself neatly amongst the bag zip.

I sat on my box brought the rod up and with majestic sweep fired the pellet waggler forth. Only I didn't because I had hooked myself up in the tree above me. You've got to laugh haven't you - no! 15 minutes later new float etc, set up clipped up and ready to go. Rest of the kit sorted plumbed up, plan in my head and a sense of normality returning. Just cupping kit and bait to prepare. Wrong cupping kit but no cup, cheers to Rocky on the next peg for the loan.

8 Mill meat cutter. Rising irritability meant I pulled to hard on the meat tin tab, snapping it. Got the gerber out and cut my way into the tin. Sweaty hands and greasy meat meant I juggled it before eventually the whole block of meat bounced off my foot and dropped down the side of the platform with a satisfyingly large plop into the lake. No worries (hysteria rising) another tin in the bag don't let it get to you said the sane side of my brain. Walk away and do it back on the bank. Meat in the cutter I slammed the punch drown to chop it and inexplicably the meat cutter - metal I might add - BROKE. Hysteria really was close now, and even the promise of a comforting hug from Kev East wouldn't stop the nervous breakdown.

The match got underway, and after unhooking myself from the keep-net, I lowered in the pellet. Before it hit the bottom I was away and the black hydro ripped out. At last there is a god and I can catch Carp after all. But oh know don't get ahead of yourself its not in yet; and actually it never was, as the number 6 section crumpled under the pressure. Thankfully it wasn't my Tourny it was my Milo, nevertheless I started to look heavenwards and couldn't stop the expletives from flowing touretes style.

John fearing for my sanity (and he told me later fearing I was going to have a seizure) told me to take a deep breath, telescope and start again. So I did breath and start again, although the blood in my temples pulsed with the high pressure that would cause an erection in most of us. Two minutes later and I'm in again and got the fish to top kit before yes you guessed it, the top kit crumpled and I lost the fish. Now I could go on but I guess by now you quite simply don't believe that one man could be so unlucky or incompetent. So I will just summarize the next few hours.

Fish 11 (hooked played and lost), Gary nil, two broken top kits and a broken bomb rod!!! The rod a Shimano Beast master. Beast master my arse it wasn't tested at the Viaduct. Soothing words (we all have bad days mate) from Vinny Payne on the next peg couldn't allay my depression, especially when the bloke saying it is playing a carp and my bad day has lasted months.

An hour to go and Brian Shutler is bagging the carp on the pellet waggler. He is doing no different to me so technically I should catch as well.

Sure enough I manage again to hook a fish, would it be fish 12 Gary nil, or is this the one. Foul hooked in the tail I dragged it inexorably to the net and shouted with joy of getting in the landing net. Safely in the keep net, I couldn't contain myself anymore and the manic laughter roared forth, leaving some I am sure questioning if I had finally lost it, and gone mad.

The whistle came way to early as I started to get them going and had 4 more. My fellow Orphans had struggled and I finished top of our team, but it was little consolation to what has been an horrendous season. I believe a short break from match fishing would help, but a heavy calender means I am committed to the cut on Sunday. Lets hope the silvers treat me better than the commercial venues have in recent times.

To the presentations and well done to all who have done well this year, and do well at the festival. Sorry not to have photographed the score sheets or indeed noting who had won what it all happened so quickly.

Kev starts it off