Blockheads?

It's no use going to the river with a plan in your head as it invariably doesn't work out - my plan was to cosy up in the woods and look down on huge carp hoovering up my bait and all being well my first river carp of the season would be in the net. I can hear the trad amongst you wince at these tactics - carp on a river, an iconic river like the Avon too - how dare he!

The omens were good too - on my drive over I spied a Red Kite whirling over the eastern edge of Cranborne Chase so I couldn't possibly fail.

A first outing in about ten years for the old B.James MKIV Avon too, a treasured family heirloom that I had actually forgotten was lurking at the back of the rod rack. It once looked like a chimney sweeps brush until some magic was done by the mighty Edward Barder in the 1990's and now it is as good as, if not better, than new.

You can rest easy, the carp didn't happen. I got side tracked by some enormous chub and whoever said chub were stupid and the first fish to eat anything thrown at them needs to think again. In fact the Germans call them blockheads, but I don't think they meant it in a derisory way and there was nothing dim witted about these bullish fellows. I found a delightful pot hole in the river bed where chub to over 6lbs were ghosting around. My feed of hemp certainly got them going along with a nice barbel or two and it was just a case of casting out my hemp juice steeped spam and they would be mine!

This part of the plan didn't work out either. Although I did catch six chub to about 4lbs or so, the big 'uns were as wily as foxes. The pot hole was like looking into an aquarium of gin, so clear that polaroid glasses were not required. They spat out my spam and generally viewed everything with the utmost suspicion.

It does add to the mystique that you don't get everything you wish for first time round, so let's wait until the next time and possibly a few times after that, but even so, what a lovely way to spend an evening!