Wednesday, 28 June 2017

Warwickshire Avon – Borborygms and Butterballs

A grumbling of one’s bowls, the rumbling of one’s stomach resulted in a little after dinner gastromancy, there was only one thing for it. The crampage and chronic flatulence was troubling and I’d rather be out than in, the Wife would rather I was too. It wasn’t nice.

So I had to get bankside….

You see, my work trousers are a scale I measure my waistline on, and I needed to rein it in a bit. Prior to a 10 day family holiday abroad I’d been eating and drinking a little more than I usually do. It can creep up pretty quickly so prior to the holiday I was already feeling the fruits of one’s indulgences.

The heaviest I've been in recent times and I'm feeling it.

The first breakfast at our swanky Hotel after being upgraded to a huge presidential suite was an eye opener, I’ve never seen a choice of food that big, not only that but the quality was right up there. So might as well enjoy it, we’ve paid for it after all. The thing was, a big breakfast was followed up with lunch and dinner in similar fashion.

One morning they even had some proper DNA tested Iberian Pig from the Albarragena reserve. 1,500 Euros per leg apparently, such its authenticity.

The “Rolls-Royce of Spanish Ham”

90 per cent pure bred Iberico rather than the 70 percent allowed under Spain’s Denominacion de Origen rules for Jamon Iberico. Cured for two years too, double the normal period.

As a someone that cooks and enjoys food, I was in heaven.

Alcohol consumption , well, let’s not go there.

So since I’ve been back I’ve been trying to reduce the bodily compression on my ‘go no go gauge’. It’s not rocket science either, I don’t do much sugar anyway, but smaller meals, cutting out the carbs, sticking to ‘Wine Wednesday’ and just one Yorkshire pudding rather than the two or three what was becoming the norm. The thing is, with a change in diet, the digestive systems often wonders what the heck is going on and responds with an overreaction.

I was in two minds where to go, but with the lure rod made up I decided to drive the 10 minutes to a weir swim I know that holds some predators of all types.

Gin clear it is at the minute, lack of rain means the ground is dry as a bone too, but in three hours bankside a few Jack Pike and quite a few Perch. Nothing worth weighing in but nice to be out all the same.


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