We have the two grandsons staying with us until the weekend and the seven year old wanted to go fishing on a rainy Wednesday. Ooh, good said Grandad, I'm prepared to make the sacrifice. Well you have to don't you?
We got to the drain to find it looking like a salad bowl with floating weed everywhere, but, amazingly, on the first cast the float hit the water and within seconds a pike of about five pounds was on and a seven year old boy was converted. Impressed with the teeth he even dared to touch it, that's his hand sneaking in by the way.
Two hours later and boredom was beginning to set in, taking weed off the line and the bait does not fire a seven year old boy up with excitement. The instructions from the boy were simple. One last cast and then we go home and take the two Jack Russells for a walk.
Out goes the bait and seconds later down goes the float, last cast syndrome at its very best. This pike weighed in at about fifteen pounds and was netted by the grandson who couldn't lift the net out of the water. Brilliant. After a long unhooking session I was instructed to put it straight back so it could recover, which I duly did with no photograph allowed, or taken, and away she went back into the depths of the drain.
We simply have to go again on Friday he says and who am I to disagree.
The grandson thinks pike are beautiful. I think we have a convert.
Tonight a man and a boy dream about pike.