If I live to 150 years old I don't think I will ever feel such emotion again. From wonderment at the spectacle to absolute despair and deep sadness at the volume of loss.
In addition a frustration at not being able to communicate to my friends and Military colleagues the depth of my gratitude.
As always we observed a minutes silence for all those in Pewsey and the considerable military presence on Pewsey doorstep who left this land never to return.
Its been a funny week for memories. I have sold the flyer for which I will have fond memories, and purchased a new vehicle for fishing and my dogs and in honour of my military friends will name her Poppy.
Mid week I took and evening run to the lake to check on its condition ahead of today's match; and the solitude and stillness of the venue reminded me of younger days. A real trip down felony lane, when I was less than a good boy. When night fishing meant freedom from home and prying eyes, a chance to take a girl along for a bit of "night fishing" . To act as the tough hero and protect the fair maiden from the spooky night noises.
The bark of a fox, the cackle of a spooked Pheasant. The tawit tawoo of a spinning head Barn Owl. At night, every noise is magnified 10 fold completely different to the day when the cacophony of a multitude of sounds dulls not sharpens the senses.
Those of you that have fished at night will attest to the beauty of a rolling tench as it silhouette's against a full moon reflecting on a still pond; and the rippled splash as they radiate out and bump up against a lily pad sending mercury liquid diamonds in all directions.
Going back to the felony lane comment. Those who grew up in the 70's will remember in that slightly more innocent time. When entering teenage years meant you left the famous five and the secret seven behind and started down the darker routes of your elder brothers Dennis Wheatley occult books "the Devil rides out", and a new author James Herbert with terrific paperbacks called "The Rats", "The Survivor and The Fog. These books with there racey stories opened your eyes to the fairer sex. Girls with short skirts, skirts so short you could almost see Jack and Danny!!!
Still trying to get a girl along wasn't the core task, it was always the fishing. Minor misdemeanors occurred when at the sound of the clinking bottles of the Milkman we sneaked ahead of him into Langford changing the numbers on doorstep messages in the hope of gaining a bottle of gold top or fizzy Lemon and Limeade Corona! (in them days people would leave a small square shape basket , with a numbered dial on their doorstep for the Milky. Instructing him to leave up to four pints that day)
The trick was to find someone asking for 1 pint and move it to 2. After he had gone pinch a bottle and move the dial back to 1, leaving the Milkman and house owner to disagree at the end of the week when the bill was to be settled. I was never comfortable with it, but running with the big lads meant you had to join in or face their torment later.
Ripples here too. I think God has paid me back 5 fold with bad luck over the years. So I have paid my dues for a cold creamy gold top glug of drink which left a my burgeoning wispy moustache white.
Even now I don't think you can beat a sultry, still day next to a secluded pond, bread flake on the end of a cage feeder full of brown crumb. Rod in rest and a Wrigleys Spearmint gum silver wrapper folded over the line to indicate the bite. Unwrapping a foil parcel and sinking your teeth into at thick cheddar and pickled onion doorstep, washed down with a pint of cold milk. Lovely.
A crash and splash of a Carp down by the flying pegs , brought me out of my thoughts. It was nice moment. Good to be happy for a change. Lets hope the positivity remains for the day and I draw well for a change. If not ........... As an anonymous philosopher once said says " Life isn't about waiting for the Storm........ its about learning to dance in the Rain"
So to the draw. I drew the Golden peg number 13 a real flyer. Bunged it back in the hat and we all dived in 14 for me 15 for Mark and guess who on the flyer ........yes it was that Golden hand Brian Shutler. I was in shock. First time in two years I have drawn at the Carp end of the lake. Not quite 12 or 13 the real flyers but the right end I will try to make the most of it.
The peg itself offers so many options I was slow setting up. Just couldn't decide how to attack it. 7.5 feet deep I could see almost the bottom ring on my keep net it was gin clear, and the bottom covered with leaves. I decided to fish mid depth to start with on the waggler against the bull-rushes opposite me. I baited a line with micro pellet a short worm line and the pole.. Brian did the same and Mark opted for the feeder against the rushes. I was in straight away with 3 little Crucian type Carp around 4 oz a piece then a run of Roach and Perch. Non of us were really catching except Brian and I bagging the small Roach. Mark switched to the waggler and immediately hit into a Carp that rammed itself in to the rushes and he lost it. The first of a trend forming.
At 11 o'clock I called for a minutes silence and we all bowed our heads in memory of those who gave for us.
After the silence I slid the pole out, the waggler line had gone quite, so why not. I was disappointed to find there was no real response.. The winter cold water stopping the eager beaver bites of the summer. Marvelous draw the right end and the weather turns - sods law. Brian still on the wag, was into a Carp,
Brian landed his carp and I couldn't really begrudge him. He had been stung in the face by some sort of Hornet and he was looking like a cross between Robert Niro in Raging Bull and Rocky Balboa.
Mark was in as well and he landed his at nearly 6 to 7 lb, after a long fight. Bugger what to do?
Mark was in again and so was Brian, with Brian announcing it was Carp o'clock. The mind games began. Do I chase the Carp or hope they will come to the waggler line. Brian had a two foot deep shelf I had nearly 5 feet and no shelf, so the bait was being intercepted before it could get down. A change to the splodger and I chucked it straight into the rushes forgetting to clip up. One word two syllables " Bellend". I was fish for fish with Brian except his were Carp to my Roach. Mark had a run of 5 casts into the rushes or the tree opposite before getting one right resulting in a immediate fish. He was going well and it was no certainty that Brian would win the match and the Golden peg.
Mark had to stop faffing around and get the bait in the same place each time and then land the Carp. Me I was still plodding away on the Roach, the bait on the bottom making no distance. Gary Perryman on 11 had two daddy Chub and Brian had another Carp - foul hooked - but a Carp.
In essence I was being spit roasted between them. The match was creeping away from me and Rocky and team Russ were disappearing into the distance. Finally with an hour to go I whipped the waggler back and instead of flipping a 3 oz Roach across the surface, the rod hooped over double style. As a raging monster ploughed headlong into the bull rush.
After a short scrap it went solid and I pulled in, a dead weight of rush, rotting end tackle, feeders and snapped line from years gone past. The match fizzled out with Mark losing more Carp and Brian catching several little pup Carp to top his day. With 20 minutes to go I flung the feeder and sat the rod in the rest, whilst I packed away ahead of do scales and board duty.
I had been beaten fair and square. A good angler (Brian) on a good peg had fished well with few mistakes and I think he had done us all. I if I was Mark I would have been raging at the lost fish. I swear he could have won the match.
So to the boards.
I weighed in my 59 fish.
A paltry bag for a lot of accurate casting and feeding. This week was not my week. Very few big fish in my swim or maybe I wasn't good enough to catch em. Either way, I tried but I failed.
Mark, had 9 lb 11.5 oz and what could have been. Brian looking even more like Rocky pulled his nets to the sound of me chanting Rocky, Rocky, Rocky and Adrian where are you Adrian. It was good to see the big fella smiling, he had done me on small fish as well with a couple of bigger Roach and a hand sized skimmer. An exhibition of waggler fishing and thoroughly deserved; and all with one eye closed.
Gary next and two very impressive Chubb graced the scales backed up by a pile of small stuff of the out pipe on worm. Jimmy had struggled. Nic had lost a double figure fish, Martin ran me close. Simon continues his impressive run with top section points as Roly and Will struggled.
So to the money.
 |
| One eyed wonder |
Brian first with his wad, 1st prize, first in super pools and £ 160 of Golden Peg money, a very fruitful day for this popular fella.
Well done to Gary on his second and silvers pick ups , and a consolation prize for Team Russ. With Roly and Martin in the background plotting how they were going to knobble Brian for the next Championship match. The boys pose for the photo left to right 1,2 and 3.
Homeward bound then. The WHO on the stereo, bit of Magic Bus, and Happy Jack as the winter night drew in quickly; Poppy purred along and I look forward to a hot bowl of homemade Stew and dumplings.
Do the blog and start on cleaning the kit for the final round of the Wx Winter league next week.
Just one final thing. That anonymous philosopher earlier" Life isn't about waiting for the Storm........ its about learning to dance in the Rain"
Well. Towards the end of the match the drizzle came down and trust me I am learning to dance in the rain. In fact I am a hunk-a-hunk burning love and I am ripping up the dance floor.
See you next week
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