A quick trip down the drain for a couple of hours pike fishing. Sunny, then cloudy and very little wind at all. The surface of the water has the look of floating salad and down below the surface it is no different, never mind it is what it is.
A few fish are moving showering the silver fish like confetti and, not unreasonably, I feel optimistic of a little success. The inevitable chat to the farmer over a cup of coffee and we're ready to go and we've made a date for a pigeon shooting session too, images of pigeon pie, peas, gravy, onions and mashed potato drift before my eyes but first the pike, focus on the fish not the plate.
A smelt popped-up just above the bottom weed on one rod and a wobbled dead roach on the other, meanwhile Uncle Sam's finest in the form of the F15's from the 48th Fighter Wing tear up the Sky and huge aircraft from the 100th Air Refueling Wing from RAF Mildenhall cruise over slowly and very quietly.
Finally a bite and a pike is on for all of three minutes, I never saw the fish but it put a good bend in the rod, stayed deep and then suddenly the line went slack. Disappointment rules. Half an hour passes and then another take on the wobbled dead roach, again the fish stays deep and then it decides to join the 48th Fighter Wing for a minute two and finally throws the barbless hook while airborne. Damn and blast. Hooks are checked and they're sharp so theres no need for a change of trace.
The session continued until deep into the dusk with one more take that carried the bait all the way across the drain and halfway back agin before dropping the roach. You have to know when to quit, so it's home to the fire and a glass of wine.
But remember this pike, I'll be back, on Thursday.
You win some and you lose some, in this case 3 - 0.