It was a Prostate Cancer Awareness event . A few years ago, I was with Mark on the riverbank when he received a call from the doctor, suggesting he undergo a further check after his PSA blood test. PSA stands for Prostate-Specific Antigen, and it lets you have a reasonably accurate idea if there are any problems. It is much more accurate and a lot easier than a meeting with a doctor's middle finger.
Mark had no symptoms but was in deep trouble. His subsequent operation created a massive hill to climb, but he's back on form and showing the energy of your average mad professor. Soon after his diagnosis, another mate of mine, Nick Bubb, had a similar anti-symptomatic diagnosis after a long and twisting journey through the Health Service due to an ankle injury. He is also back to his 'usual' ways as he fills my Message Box with pictures that I cannot share here.
So, the gang had a choice of six 'ponds', the little reservoirs that feed the locks. Each is full of fish of many kinds. That then was the aim. A multi-species match with the most species being the winner. Unusually, hybrids counted as species, meaning that size wasn't everything. We trudged to our
chosen ponds. The Match was roving and ran on honesty - providing photographic proof or a reliable witness could back you up.
I chose an attractive spot, checked the depths, tackled up, fed the nearside with maggot and the edge of the central channel with blitzed bread. I soon had a roach or two and a few perch from the nearside. I got into a rhythm and soon was taking fish regularly. I had a couple of bream, then a tench of 2-3 pounds. All good fun on such light tackle. My species list rose to five with a rudd and then six with a pretty rudd/roach hybrid.
A few of the crew began wandering, and the news was pretty mixed. One thing for sure was that gudgeon, silver bream and ruffe had been caught. Tench were at a premium too, so I figured a few of the little ones would put me in with a shout. Hark at me. As a rule, I hate match fishing, but this was somehow different. I obviously have a competitive streak. Jack Perks appeared and dropped into the next spot. A minute later, he casually dropped a gudgeon back. I could have thrown my maggots at him.
I re-rigged to a very light float, lighter hooklink, smaller hook, and carefully set the bait to sit just tickling the bottom. Jack was on eight species. I just wanted a little fish or two, provided they were different. But, I caught perch after perch after bloody perch. Mixed with them were roach, one of which was bigger and dropped off due to my impatience. I really worked at it and eventually, Aroogah! Up came a diminutive ruffe. I was overjoyed, and those within earshot were free with congratulations, in a quite jealous way.

Nine or ten species were collectively caught, the biggest a tench of over four pounds. Despite my protestations that a Zebra Mussel was a shell FISH, a plea unanimously turned down, I ended on seven species, sharing second place. The fish whisperer, Jack Perks, took top spot. It was a fun event, we all got prizes, albeit with almost zero value, but I think we are all hoping to be there for the next one.
If you have a spare shilling, you can donate it here
https://www.justgiving.com/page/mark-everard-fishing-26jul25