7 am I thought I would be first there at Witherspoons on the bridge and I was. Problem was the bloke refused to open the door. Saying ten minutes mate. After half an hour and the queue now 25 strong all wanting breakfast I banged on the door and shouted through the letterbox.
Eventually the git opened the door and said we don't open till 8!!!!! Kev tried to explain we had booked well in advance and there would be 35 blokes wanting breakfast. Still no joy he wasn't opening till 8. So we went along to Cafe Nero who were happy to host us.
Was volunteered to do the boards and without glasses (forgotten) that was going to be interesting. I fancied C section nearer the town, but drew A7 up in Riverside drive . Chance it could be the ditch swim (a flier) but no Ivan had that.
No worries me thinks Ill be other side of ditch. Nice deep hole on inside were the stream comes in . But oh no it appears Chippenham have left that to get brambly and overgrown. Sod it I am top end of the shallows. not good
After dodging the piles of dog crap I made my across bumpy ground to my swim. Bloody hell its a ten foot drop and I am going to have to be Eddy the Eagle to get down there.
Not good for a grey haired old fart, so after use a rope and tackle and lowering my kit down I was left with my rigger trolley. What to do. Couldn't leave at top of bank especially as the gap in front of me was not my swim that was off to the left out of sight. If I leave it it will be robbed no doubt.So lowered that down as well, and then sat there having my own personal seizure.
The river was pushing through and filthy dirty. Keep net had only been in a few minutes and it was minging. Enough silt on it to start a market garden.
As for the match. Well set out two lines and an up the water long line bleak 6 mtr to hand rig, in hope.
Dropped in the bait dropper and for the second match in a row came back leaving bait dropper on the bottom, really, yes really. Stepped back of the platform in a temper and was poked in the eye by bank side rushes.
Fumbling around like Mr Magoo with blinding watery stinging eyes I then stood on one of my tubes old stick floats. I couldn't bear to look some of the floats in there are John Dean, and Allerton floats. I walked away and leaned against a near by tree. I couldn't find a cat to strangle so I gave it ten minutes of feeling sorry for myself, bottom lip pouting like a sulking three year old.
After all the "fun" I started ten minutes late. Carl on the next peg had filled it in with 10 big balls of ground bait. So I plumbed up my rigs again as the river level had gone up.
First drop in (5 mtr line) and I was in. In alright. In to a bloody shopping trolley. Knowing they don't count I pulled for a break lost a five quid Carulso float (manic giggling now taking over) I went through some breathing exercises. I kid you not when I say my temper was bringing on a heart attack. I fired the feeder across onto the edge of a slack. The ground bait emptied and the feeder pulled back to mid river. Quick change to a bloody heavy feeder meant it would hold.
Whilst I watched the tip, I opened the stick float tube. Sure enough several favourites, John Dean, Ian Heaps and Jon Allerton as well as some newer favourites Drakes float had been destroyed by the fattest angler in the world. Temper burst and I kicked out at a nearby hemp tin left by a previous angler. Missing it completely my standing foot slipped and I ended up on my backside.
You would think it couldn't get worse but in the kefuffle I had knocked over my bait and it was making a desperate bid to escape.
Over two thirds of the match gone and the wonderful rising muddy river was not offering anything not even a bite. People are walking the bank and Ben Bentley appears to be leading with a tiny roach and 10 minnows. An hour to go and Carl gets a 6 ounce Chubb. Ben has lost some sort of Salmon / Trout and Pez has a gudgeon.
Two minutes to go and I am facing a blank. Gutted.
For once I will blow my own trumpet and say, I am fishing reasonably well lately and the past 12 months has overall been very good. Some may disagree but I am no mug on a river so to blank is infuriating.
Finally the float dips and I get a roach on the whistle.
It appears the last hour had produced at least one fish each it just depended on size. Mine went 20 grams I was sure. The scales bounced between 20 and 10 and back again. I asked the scales man to call it at 20 grams surely - but he waited the water dripped off and the tight git gave me 10 grams. Cant complain its the scales mans call not mine, so suck it up princess.
Time to climb back up the bank and go and sulk in the van.
Well done to Mike Poolman (fellow Nomad) knocking me out of the Natural venue cup, another almost but not quite for the big dog. Too many seconds and thirds in the last year, some wins but not enough. Sorry to the lads in my team bad day let them down.
Even the Shutler had struggled, Ben took a quid off me. Pete Aspen three chubb in last hour wins section; and poor old Pez try as he might and after several reweighs I'm told couldn't make his two gudgeon register so he was given 0.005 grams
Well done to my team mate Dave Burns winning his section. At least this section got more than we did up on the shallows.
Even in form Dave Docs the river master struggled here, as the favoured C section nearer the town also struggled. To be honest I love rivers but today was grind and I don't care if I see Chippenham again for some time. And I had no breakfast!!!!!
Team Honours saw a shake up as the in form teams, like my own Nomads struggled. Well done to Upavon (Carls bombardment and subsequent 6 ounce Chubb) backing up good results from Dave Griff and Bri Parsons.
I felt for Kev East the draw venue had let him down, nature had conspired to fill the river with muddy flood water, and through no fault of his weights were low.
Still once again the banter was good, it was well organised efficient and slick. Despite my disaster I look forward to the next match with the terrific Army lads.
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