Except I don't remember much about the first trip. It was to Whitmore's lake, a favourite spot these days thanks to its relatively small size and the fact that so few people fish it. However, fishing as we know, goes in cycles, and my first visit of the new season lacks a certain something that was a regular feature last year. Fish. Despite trying various swims before settling on the smaller of the two islands (a lovely spot) I manage a single bite (a confident couple of bobs followed by a sail away) and a single fish (a small rudd of a few ounces). Still, the Kelly Kettle gets an outing too and that's a complete success - the trick seems to be to load it up as soon as it gets going, rather than feeding it sticks in drubs and drabs.
Seconds away, round two. A big club lake this time, a water I associate with surface feeding carp but that now holds crucians, decent perch along with rudd and roach that are growing fast. So what do I catch? Tench. In fact, it looks like the same tench, over and over again - a supersize bar of Pears soap that's just big enough to need the landing net. I go with new club member (and fellow band member - but that's another story) Sam, a sea fisherman who's more at home with 7oz leads with grippers and rods as big as coconut trees; this time round we both enjoy a cup of coffee, courtesy of the kettle. And if I can get the video uploaded, you'll be able to see for yourself.
Round three. My favourite club lake this time. Driving past the alpacas with their funny, Muppety faces, Sam and I find a single club member who's there having had a row with his wife. Storming out he remembered he had all his gear in the car so instead of going to the pub of tramping the streets, he goes fishing instead. Sensible choice. No such histrionics for either of us so Sam settles into my favourite corner swim and I tackle up next door on the other side of the big tree. I start by quiver tipping with maggots, but a succession of fish from the other side of the tree culminating in a lovely crucian carp convinces me to switch to a small float - a leaded, clear short bodied waggler. Luncheon meat goes on a small size 12 (bought from Trago Mills nearly 10 years ago and still sharp as billy-o) and produces a lovely little rudd. Over the next three hours this is followed by a nice bream, some good sized tench (the biggest is here at 3lbs 5oz) and that rarest of all freshwater aquatic creatures, a lip-hooked eel. It was the same day the flotilla sailed down the Thames in celebration of the jubilee, and while London sweltered and soaked in the rain, Sam and I fished into the silence and the setting sun.
Angler holding tench - invisible toilet not pictured
Round four. June the 16th. The most important day of the season, for obvious reasons and for others that I won't go into here. It has to be the river of course, but Ray is cautious because of the wind and tries to persuade me to go the following day instead. I'm determined to go anyway and talk Sam into it ( this takes about two seconds) but as we head over the Downs the wind seems to rise rather than fall and when we park up by the stile, the uncut meadow grass sways this way and that in the ferocious wind. Still, it's the glorious 16th and it has to be done, so we go over the stile and stride purposefully through the grass to the river. It looks great, plenty of water, good flow and not too weedy - but the banks are almost impenetrable and the wind gusts viciously this way and that. We press on downstream. The river winds so much here that I'm certain we'll find a sheltered spot where we can tuck in out of the way but as we continue, the landscape increasingly resembles a sandstorm minus the sand. Long story short? I bottle it and we slink (actually we high step, it's the only way to walk through that bloomin' grass) back to the car and decamp to a small, sheltered pond up the road. Here we catch tiny fish after tiny fish all afternoon and into the evening. After an hour I've already caught more fish than I managed all of last season - rudd and little F1 carp which go like miniature rockets. Sam catches them too, ledgers for the first time, finds he doesn't fancy using a centrepin after all and finally introduces me to a wonderful beer flavoured with ginger. Although the day hasn't had the solemnity of previous June the 16ths, it has still had its moments. More important, I think all the players can appreciate that if a sizeable fish won't show itself, a quiet pint in a classic English pub on a warm, stormy summer's evening may be compensation enough.
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