I new something was different when I started fishing just upstream from the motorway bridge and I bumped into a couple of chaps coarse fishing; I don’t usually see a soul on the river but two – and coarse fishing as well! very unusual. Anyway, after an exchange of pleasantries and mutual checking of membership cards I set off to find a lonelier spot. I hope you did well Eddie.
I was soon into a good trout which turned out to be a 16 incher – my best on this river. This was followed by my smallest – in fact I think it is probably the smallest trout it is possible to catch on a size 10 hare’s ear – no longer that my thumb to the first knuckle. I must have been fishing well because I don’t remember the slightest indication that anything was nibbling the fly, I simply lifted on intuition and there it was. How it managed to gulp down the fly I’ll never know but it did and, even more surprisingly it shot of up-stream when I released it. I thought it was a gonner.
Then I took a tumble. To be more precise I stepped onto a bit of river bed that wasn’t there and I went right in, over my head. This is where I discovered that the waterproof pocket inside Wychwood waders isn’t – waterproof that is. Mobile ‘phone and a new pack of Bensen & Hedges finest ruined. At least our two course fishing friends were nowhere near to witness my embarrassment.
I fished on in this soggy state for a while and connected with a couple of decent grayling but it soon became apparent that the magic had gone, so I called it a [very strange] day.