Pies held in readiness, slurping tea in the flask and tackle to go. Even better the rain was in temporary abeyance, with a strange yellow object in the sky, bathing the Test valley in a warm golden glow:
A stop at the roadside purveyors of fine bacon rolls and tea meant all was set fair for a splendid day and it was so.
Arriving in good order the long walk to the Grayling swim was undertaken, skipping through the lake like puddles was an ordeal but necessary to get to river.
The swim was free, oh frabjous joy, so the trotting tackle was set up in between scoffing one of the pies, slurping tea noisily with just a little bad singing to accompany the task.
First run and a grayling was on, then off......oh well. Loose feed then back out with the float riding the river, carrying the hopes of the bankside idiot for a glimpse of piscine beauty. The run of the float was interrupted, followed by a gentle strike. No mistakes, or loose line this time:
What a start this one went 18 inches. More pie and tea to celebrate. Then like buses his mate decided he wanted to see the bank too:
This one looked bigger and so it proved. Twenty and three quarter inches ........stunning.
Five more lesser beasts took the same trip bankside, with this one being a decent size:
It was gone 1500 hrs and time for roach, so a move to the slower side stream was made. Moving from swim to swim, taking a roach here and there with some goers around 8-10 oz all very satisfying.
With the light fading fast, one final effort was rewarded in the most pleasing way:
The drive back took but a moment, with truly bad singing all the way.
Matron
was unimpressed, as is her want, but the inner Mole was grinning from ear to ear.As ever,.....
Moley
