The Night Before Christmas

I had to get out. The urge to fish is constant just the amount varies and lately I've really felt the need. To add to the general frustration I had a rod to christen, a Sharpe's Scotty Avon that arrived whilst I was less than able to enjoy it. Nicky actually brought it to the ward for me to unwrap - bless her. The looks we drew as I put it together and gave it the customary wiggle were of bemusement.... but nobody said anything.

I dropped into my chub swim confident of a chance but not really too worried either way. The river was well up and thousands of gallons of coloured Wye sped silently past. I snuck into a crease and threw a few free pieces of spice flavoured meat well upstream. This was followed by a small pva containing three or four more bits and one on the hook. I sat back, the weight of the rod on a rest but the handle was in my hand and the line across the tip of my right index finger. 

Less than a minute had passed when I felt a faint tug, tug then a determined pull and I was into a hard fighting fish that ran upstream but stayed deep. The rod hooped over and took on a fighting posture that I hope to see repeated many times as the fish begrudgingly came to the surface. A chub, not a monster by any means but about average for the river. It was soon in the net and released downstream.

I knew that a fish so soon was usually the kiss of death but I went through the motions for an hour or so content to listen to the squabbling starlings looking for a roost. It got quite cold and despite a stab of a bite whilst I texted Neil, I decided to call it a day and go and help with the last minute Christmas preparations. 

Sometimes an hour by the water is more than enough but I'll be back soon for sure.

                         

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Have a wonderful Christmas period and thanks for stopping by to look at my humble scrawl. In a world that constantly throws grief and misery our way Christmas is a time for reflection and hope. 

Here's a seldom heard seasonal song for you to enjoy