Merry Christmas

 

According to Morrisons, Christmas is upon us. The fact that your Advert Calendar chocolate is likely to melt means nothing, and the gigantic commerce monster keeps rolling forward, sucking the last few pennies from our pockets.

Back on planet earth, I've had a trip or two on the River Lugg. A pretty river, especially when the effluent from sewage plants and the run-off from the fruit and veg trade is missing. It's always been a challenging water, but hard-earned fish are bigger rewards.

On my first trip, I managed a three-pound chub from under the rod tip after some cunning feeding. A single chub is a good session; anything more is bragging material.

I would have fished a couple of evenings ago but, like a complete idiot, I got there without my rod or landing net. I do this checklist before every trip: 'rods, reels, nets, bait, odds and sods', and it has been enough to jog the brain into travelling suitably equipped bar the occasional bait left in the fridge, or my sandwiches. I was mentally doing my list whilst looking at said rod and net as it leant against a wheelie bin outside the house. It's an age thing, but I am aware of it - now.

On my way home, cursing at another fight through rush-hour traffic, but expecting to meet Mrs Burr coming the other way on a rescue mission, she rang me. Can't meet you, hook in finger, can't get it out, was the gist of the message, minus language and threats to my nether regions. Gulp!

I found her leaning against said bin; the rod was there and so was the hook, well and truly stuck into a finger. Somewhere between whispering sweet nothings to each other on my departure and my arriving back home, my dear ladies' sense of humour had vanished. Merely touching the still attached boilie brought a scream of pain; ask anybody in Herefordshire, I'm sure they all heard it. Now Nicky is a very tough person. I've seen her with kidney stones, surgery, pneumonia, broken bones, and of course, she sees me naked. This girl has grit and would put many men to shame, but she insisted on a trip to A&E

All of humanity is laid bare in hospital, and A&E is somewhere that all comers are welcome to rub painful shoulders. It was in said waiting area that I once heard a large Traveller Girl loudly announce, "I've got three kids, and I know all their names of their fathers' - even their last ones". I never did see who the comment was aimed at, but she seemed very proud. So, I wasn't so much shocked by the information given by the gentleman at the next window as we booked in, but I was curious. "What have you come in for?" asked the stout lady with fingers on her keyboard. " I was using a power drill", he began, "and I slipped. It got caught in my trousers and has done damage to my penis and testicles". The receptionist didn't bat an eyelid; I, however, crossed my legs, bit my lip and moved away, stifling my laughter.

I have a morbid sense of humour, and when working, regularly visited hospitals. I've heard many, many stories, but this was a new one. I do hope he is comfortable and making a full recovery.

We left a couple of hours later, Nicky laden with penicillin, antibiotics, a large plaster on the affected digit and a painful mark where the tetanus jab was done. So that was my fishing done for.

Last night I returned to the same swim and baited quite heavily over two hours before lowering a little boilie in its midst. I sat back and was soon visited by a dog show reject. It just appeared next to me, came around the other side, put his paws on my lap and stuck his tongue so deep into my ear that it cleaned the one on the other side. He also fell in love with my leg, but he was a great character and I would happily have taken him home. His owner wouldn't have put up with that; he's bigger than me too. But he stayed for a chat and we got along really well. 

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder

Before he left, my rod dipped a little and a few inches of line left the reel. I decided to leave it as I am sure it was just a little chub. Later, it did it again; this time I tightened, but into nothing. On retrieving, I snagged a root and lost my end tackle. It was getting dark, so I plodded back to the car and logged a blank.

I may not fish for a day or two, what with the Christmas shopping to do, but if the rivers rise after the storms, I may don my reindeer hat and see you on the banks somewhere.