Our grandson's are staying with us for a week before they jet off on their holidays with mum and dad to Cyprus. Personally I think that's all the wrong way round, after a week of hyper-activity and being woken up at dawn every day we should be the ones jetting off to Cyprus to sit round the pool having a cool drink and a good read, never mind, a grandparent's lot and all that.
Last time we were out pike fishing before Christmas I said that I'd buy him a pole to get him started; well we're now the proud owner of a four metre pole and Sunday afternoon was spent testing it to destruction on the little river that runs through the middle of the village.
Small perch have learned to fly but the ruffe and bream came in rather more sedately and this lovely rudd put up a real scrap before it was finally netted.
Enthusiasm is growing. Rapidly.
Grandad, can we fish tomorrow? Well, I wouldn't normally and we'll have to get some bait but let's see what the Boss says.
'I don't see why not', says the Boss.