The piking week

      Monday was a day spent with photographer Nick Fallowfield-Cooper from Fallons Angler as he filmed and followed how I work on the printing press as I printed the fifth colour on to the 'Storm warning' linocut.
      Obviously we sneaked out for a quick two hours piking on an old landing stage in the chilly, dull and grey late afternoon and, after catching some fresh bait, we managed to put three pike in the net and then swiftly back into the drain. An enjoyable couple of hours in good company.

      Wednesday saw me back on the river in the freezing cold with the weatherman promising snow and high winds or, basically, an icy armageddon over the next few days but it never really happened. Hyperbole yet again from the weather forecasters. We had a few flurries of sugary snow but it never got going and it didn't form a layer but my goodness the 'lazy wind' was really back with a vengeance.
      Two runs and two pike later I called it a day but my fingers were so cold I couldn't turn the ignition key when I got back to the car in the farmyard.

      Surprise, surprise but the weekend saw me out again on Saturday afternoon when it was even colder than Wednesday with the wind chill factor freezing you to the bone. Two small pike were landed using a wobbled roach, well the hook was removed without them needing to be netted, before a larger pike brought the net into action. The first two fish were caught while walking and fishing and the last one was caught when I got back to the landing stages to have the usual twenty or thirty last casts.
      I now need to replace my weighing sling, unhooking mat and glove, they all got blown into the drain a week or so ago and sank from view so a trip to the tackle shop is called for on Monday.
      Will I be able to cope with the interrogation?


  1. It's alright John. l've been in touch with RAF Whyton Black Ops and they're gonna sort it for you. Of course they are, they'll get the message from your post labels. Always watching. Always watching.

  2. Thank god for that. Lakenheath told me they know where I live so I sleep in a tent in the front garden. They'll never find me...


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