Today I caught a Pike.
The first since November. Oh the excitement as the float sank and gently pulled away to the right. The Pike was about seven pounds, maybe a bit more, and it took a float fished dead roach. Small fry you might say, but believe me after suffering that strange hypnosis for weeks where the float seems to move, but it isn't, it's just an optical illusion and completely stationary, this fish really was Moby Dick.
Quickly netted and on the bank I moved swiftly to my new Korum Pike angler's rucksack, a Christmas present from my daughter, son-in-law and family. "It holds everything Dad, rigs, bait, plugs and spoons, camera, those essential bits and pieces and your forceps and unhooking gear. You'll know where absolutely everything is".
Where are the forceps and long pliers? They're at home that's bloody where; at this point a teenage level tantrum erupts. Unhooking even this Pike by hand probably means a trip to Casualty...
A quick stare from the Pike that says 'you tosser' and it transfers the hooks to the net in one wriggle and I'm saved. Photograph taken and she's returned.
One more cast having missed one and caught one? No, don't push your luck, you absent minded fool.