Transient Towpath Trudging - Pt.125 (Canal Zander, Bread Munchers and Captain Quagswag)

Another fantastic lunch at Stratford-Upon-Avon's Beleza Rodizio, meat, meat and more meat, Brazilian rodizio-style. 

Now Brazilian rodízio-style is a type of all-you-can-eat dining experience, especially popular in Brazilian steakhouses (churrascarias), where a wide variety of meats are served continuously at your table until you say stop.

If you've not tried these type of restaurants servers, called passadores, come around with large skewers of freshly grilled meats beef, pork, chicken, lamb, sausage, etc. and you help yourself to the self service salad bar., which is also superb to be honest.

You usually get a red or green card (or in Straford's case a block of wood shaped like an egg timer, red one end, green the other) Green "yes, bring more" and red "I'm taking a break" or "I'm full".

No rush, just pace yourself, the highlights well, the Picanha is hard to fault which is a cap of rump, the Alcatra (the wife's favorite) which is top sirloin cut, Cordeiro which is lamb with mint and then my favorite, the beef in garlic marinade. I love the chicken hearts they do, but sadly not on the lunch menu, oddly the garlic beef wasn't either, but I wasn't complaining !!!

Greedy, you betcha, but not that horrible full feeling you get when you've consumed a pizza for example. The service well, it was absolutely superb, we will be back !!  Anyway talking of greedy !!

In the heart of Birmingham, the bin crisis had reached apocalyptic proportions. Rubbish heaps were so high, local pigeons were getting vertigo. 

Out of the chaos emerged a new kind of urban legend: a heroic, caped rat named Captain Quagswag, riding a sleek black cat and rallying the city's rodent population to reclaim the streets… and the bins.

But Captain Quagswag was no ordinary rodent. He had a dream a dream that didn’t stink of old kebabs and leaking nappies. He longed for fresh air, calm waters, and the gentle tug of a fish on a line. So, after rallying his crew of bin-diving rat warriors, he announced:

"We're going fishing, lads. And not just anywhere we’re hitting the canals of Stratford-upon-Avon!"

With a trail of wheelie bins behind them and a stolen mobility scooter leading the charge, Captain Quagswag and his rat brigade made their way down the canal towpath. They dodged swans, jumped over barbecues, and even stopped briefly to battle a gang of angry geese.

Upon arrival at the marina, they commandeered an abandoned canal boat—“The HMS Stinkbait”—painted it bright red, and set sail (slowly) into open waters. The rats cast their makeshift fishing lines (recycled coat hangers with cheese strings for bait) and waited.

To everyone’s shock, Captain Quagswag soon hooked something massive. The boat rocked. The black cat, acting as first mate, hissed in excitement. After a 30-minute battle that involved three rats getting flung into the canal and a small explosion involving a camping stove, Quagswag landed it—a shopping trolley filled with fish fingers and a half-eaten Greggs sausage roll.

Cheers erupted. It was a feast. The Birmingham rats had gone from bin-bothered scavengers to canal-fishing legends. From that day forward, canal-goers in Stratford spoke of the strange boat manned by a masked rat and his feline companion. And the sign on the back of the boat said it all:

“Captain Quagswag’s Piscatorial Patrol – Bin There, Fished That.”

Now I've fished this marina many a time and to be honest I've not done brilliantly. Ok I've had some Zander but nothing big, but this time I fancied also trying for some other species so I had some bread slop with me and bread for the hook. Was I missing a trick ? quite possibly as Blog Reader Nick (Waves to Nick) emailed me over winter to say he was doing ok when he fished it. 

You cannot really get much cruder than this set-up, a 2 SSG Guru Pellet waggler sits on the surface like my Zander deadbait setup and a SSG shot an inch from the size 12 hook provides the anchor and plummet. 

Feed some groundbait and wait for a bite. It didn't take long either however the first fish I bumped off, still I need not have worried because the fish were on it straight away. You see I managed 9 or so fish within the first hour where I should have used a keepnet, here a small selection of the fish caught. Mainly bream but some nice hard fighting hybrids kept me entertained.

The swim went dead when the sun came out so I decided to put the zander rod out when chilling out with a cup of tea and ten minutes later it bobs and sails confidently under and I'm in to a fish. A proper hard fighting Zander this one and it gave me the run around for a while, trying to get under the boat to my right at one point. 

I didn't weigh it but it was a decent one and certainly worth getting out of bed early for. I tried another 2 spots but the fish after the initial madness were just not up for feeding for some reason. The sun was illuminating the whole marina though so not ideal.

I went for a nose at another marina entrance a short walk away but there was nothing doing whatsoever and when the first boat was heading away from its moorings I called it a day. I've not been doing that well for a while, so it was nice to get a few bites for a change. 

Transient Towpath Trudging - Pt.124 (Canal Zander and Bread Munchers)

Fill your boots fellow anglers, you see the South Stratford at Wilmcote has a navigation closure due to the gates at lock 40 where the bottom gate has suffered a loss of support from its anchor and a detachment of the quoin, rendering the gate inoperable. As a result, the gate is fouling on the lock invert and is at risk of detachment, posing a safety concern, bugger. 

That's going to get the narrowboaters throthing at the mouth I'm sure, as that is the main route in to the Stratford-Upon-Avon town itself and it might not be reopened till the end of May. 🤯 . Myself and Nic from Avon Angling have fished this canal extensively but other anglers really are are very rare indeed. 

Anyway you tiller twiddlers be thankful for small mercies, you see long ago well, sometime in the 1980s on the South Stratford Canal near Wilmcote, a narrowboat called The Tipsy Teapot was making its leisurely way through the Wilmcote Lock Flight. Aboard were two canal-loving retirees, Barry and Dot, with their excitable spaniel named Toast. He earned his name after a kettle-related incident that left him a little crispy and forever underfoot.

They’d been warned by locals at the pub the night before.
 

“Mind yourself at Lock 43,” the barman said darkly. “That’s where Old Lockie haunts. He’s mad about lock etiquette... and Yorkshire Tea.”

Unfazed, Barry waved it off. “A ghost? Please. The only thing spooky about this canal is the price of mooring at Stratford.”

As they reached Lock 43, things began to go sideways. Barry, distracted by his own reflection in the water (which he swore looked younger), forgot to untie the stern line. Dot, in her usual calm way, dropped the windlass right into the lock after spilling her tea on it. Toast, ever the dramatic one, leapt from the boat in pursuit of a heron and somehow dragged the entire tea caddy into the hedge with him.

Then everything went quiet.

The air turned noticeably chilly, the birds hushed, and the canal water lay as still as Dot’s disappointed glare. That’s when it happened.

A low, gravelly voice echoed from the bushes:
“PUT YER PADDLE DOWN PROPERLY, YOU NUMPTY!”

Barry spun around. “What was that?!”

From behind the old barrel-roofed cottage emerged a translucent figure in overalls and wellies, floating slightly above the towpath. In one hand, he clutched a ghostly mug. Steam rose from it but the water never boiled.

The ghost sniffed.

“Is that... Tetley? Not in my lock, sunshine!” he bellowed, clearly offended by Barry’s teabag selection.

Dot, the calm in every storm (and every supernatural tea-based altercation), held out the emergency biscuit tin. She offered the spectre a soggy digestive and a fresh brew—strong Yorkshire, no nonsense.

The ghost narrowed his eyes, took a sip, and let out a long, satisfied sigh.

“All right then,” he said with a much softer tone. “Just mind yer windlass technique and tell that dog to stop chewing me ghost slippers.”

With that, he faded into the mist like a kettle left too long on the hob. Just before he vanished completely, a final whisper drifted through the air:

“Always... two sugars...”

To this day, boaters on the South Stratford swear they hear kettle whistles near Lock 43, even when no one's around. Toast eventually gave up chasing herons and ghosts alike, opting instead to sit upright in chairs like a gentleman with opinions on upholstery.

And Barry? He never forgets to drop his paddles properly anymore. Because some tea-fueled lessons stick with you… for life.

Anyway enough of that, I better give the non navigable canal a go hadn't I because I need something to boost my enthusiasm to go fishing. Since the rivers have closed I really haven't had the urge to go because well, I'm just not feeling it. The weather isn't helping I suppose because it's been very cold overnight and then very sunny during the day.

The fish are often in limbo mode because when the waters starts to warm up, and they get moving, they will be thinking about spawning and not feeding. Still it was worth giving it a go I suppose just to see what I could winkle out. So a Zander rod and a float rod where I'd fish some bread and use some liquidised bread for some attraction. 

I rarely fish down there to be honest, but I've caught Zander in the past so it would be nice to try for some other species. 'Tramp Alley' is at the end of the Wilmcote flight just on the outskirts of Stratford and that has produced some nice fish for me, including my PB roach and also my PB canal chub. 

As much as I moan about fishing these poo ridded waterways, there is still some mystery and intrigue when that float starts to bobble, because you really haven't a clue what is going to be under it.

The weather wasn't ideal for fishing but it was a lovely day again however there was one problem that would stop the fish climbing up the rod, you see the lack of boat movement meant that the water was very clear indeed. Now the South Stratford sees lots of boats because of it being in tourist central and it is usually turbid much of the year, hence what the Zander have established themselves.

The fish feel confident feeding when it's coloured I've found, when it's clear not so. They are out there and vulnerable and like I found last year when the same thing happened, the fishing without any boat movement was tougher than I thought.

It's quite a change in the fishes usual environment which is one of the excuses I had before I even started the session. I've found with canal fishing when you are on the fish you get bites quick, but swim after swim there was nothing doing whatsoever. Next weekend I'll be raving again with a load of the like-minded in Brum at the intimate venue the Hare and Hounds in Kings Heath and yet see one person walk down the canal towards me, it turns me into a grumpy old man 😂 The misanthrope in me, I luckily can switch off in the right environment.

So after giving it a good 2.5 hours without a bite on either rod I decided to get back in the car and drive up to tramp alley which was 5 minutes away. If there was anywhere that was going to give me a bite, it's tramp alley. I'm sure the closer you get to town the better the fishing so I dropped in some bread by some reeds and went up to the last lock of the Wilmcote flight to try and get a bite, before moving back to the pre baited swim. 

I'm sure if I stuck in one swim like a matchman and tried to build up a swim my fortunes would change, but I really struggle to stay in one swim to be honest, it's just not me. Anyway what I didn't expect was a boat was just about to leave the pound, God knows where he came from. 

Because the closed lock was a 10 minute walk from here. I went up to an area fish where one of my biggest Roach on the canal came from, but the water was really shallow, barely clinging on to the banks. Ok we've not had rain for a while, but that must have been because of some imbalances going on. 

So with the boat not past the lock I decided to drop in there to at least to try and catch a Zander. A good 40 minutes or so without a bite on either rod and with the sun now setting I decided to have a last go in the primed swim. 

Within 5 minutes of dropping in the breadflake I had a couple of bobbles on the float and then it sailed away confidently and I hooked into a fish that was darting all over the swim. I knew what it was straight away 

A FISH, A FISH !!!

Not any old fish though a nice roach. Pheeewwww I don't have to take up golf after all. Ok not a huge one but I certainly wouldn't be using it as a live bait for Zander. I stuck it out another twenty minutes without any further bites, so it was time for the off. I finding it tough out there I must admit. I might have to try Nora Batty's gaff to see if the fish are still grouped up in some sanctuary, thankfully she's moved on and there are new custodians, I wonder if they are more obliging ?, only one way to find out. 

Severn Trent Water - We Bring Poo To You

Anyone else on the countdown to the River Season ? 😑

Thankfully ChatGPT keeping me entertained !!

Now if you didn't know in 2022, Severn Trent Water was responsible for 14.9% of the more than 300,000 sewage spills recorded in England, with spills lasting for more than 1.7 million hours, according to ENDS Report. In 2022, Severn Trent Water reported nearly 45,000 sewage spills in England, lasting for nearly 250,000 hours, which is more than 28 years.

ENDS Report identifies WHISSENDINE WWTW in Rutland as a site that spilled sewage for more than 6,600 hours. Severn Trent Water was fined more than £2 million for allowing large amounts of raw sewage to enter the River Trent. The incident occurred at the Strongford Treatment Works, which discharged more than 260 million liters of sewage between November 2019 and February 2020, the equivalent of 10 Olympic-sized swimming pools.

“Carp Diem” – A Day at Shrewley Pools

It was the kind of morning that made you believe anything was possible—sun shining, birds chirping, and Sam forgetting his sandwiches again. Mick, ever the optimist (and secretly delighted Sam would end up sharing his), was already halfway through his first cup of tea when they pulled into the quiet car park at Shrewley Pools.

“Today’s the day,” Sam announced confidently, for the fifth week in a row. “I can feel it. Big carp. Personal bests. Fame. Maybe a sponsorship.”

Mick raised an eyebrow. “Let’s just try not to snag a tree this time, yeah?”

They set up by the water’s edge, rods poised, bait perfectly prepped pellets, corn, and bread even that mysterious ‘magic mix’ Mick had bought off a bloke in a pub who claimed it was “basically fish crack.”

They waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

Hours drifted by like the clouds overhead, and the carp remained firmly in hiding presumably on a spa day or laughing at them from the deepest, darkest part of the pool. Mick suspected the fish had unionized and taken the day off in protest.

Sam tried everything switching rigs, recasting every twenty minutes, even giving the water a motivational pep talk. “Come on, lads. I’ve got a net and everything.”

Meanwhile, the wildlife stole the show. A kingfisher zipped past like a neon bullet, making them both jump. A pair of ducks waddled over, clearly expecting snacks and looking personally offended when handed a bit of sweetcorn. A squirrel in a nearby tree spent a full ten minutes throwing acorns at Sam's bait bucket.

“I think we’re being mocked,” Mick muttered.

Still, the sun stayed out, the air was fresh, and the world felt pleasantly quiet aside from the occasional splash somewhere just out of casting range, which might have been a fish or just nature’s way of trolling them.

By late afternoon, Sam leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head, sighing. “No fish, sunburn, one mosquito bite in a place I can’t scratch in public… but I’ve got to admit, this is still better than being at home having to do my homework.”

Mick nodded, passing him the last of the tea. “Yep. No fish were harmed today but our dignity’s hanging by a thread.”

They packed up slowly, laughing at their bad luck and the sheer absurdity of it all. No carp, no glory—but the stories, the sunshine, and the duck side-eye made it a day well spent.

As they drove away, Sam looked over. “Same time next week?”

Mick grinned. “Only if you bring your own sandwiches.”

Thanks ChatGPT I didn't have the enthusiasm to write anything. A very frustrating session indeed, the odd carp seemed to being caught on method feeder. But even when there were some small carp in the margin to the left they avoided the hookbait completely.

I caught nearly 90lb of carp here during a Shanghai AC match but today they were just not having it. Still some zombie roach milling around kept the boredom at bay as the ducks were one by one picking them off, oh and the weather was rather nice. There were some carp on the surface during some short spells but you cannot fish floating baits which was a shame, but if we do come back here during the summer, I'll bring some maggots I think.

Anyway enough of that, lets have cuppa in sun and look at the positives, at least Sam and I had some decent bonding time. 

Transient Towpath Trudging - Pt.123 (Canal Zander)

Fishing is supposed to be relaxing, supposed to be an aid to peace of mind and long life. But I'm beginning to wonder.

There was this doddery old chap I met on the bank. Shaking in every limb, he was, wrinkled like a crab-apple and hair and beard like Father Christmas. But there he was, fishing peacefully away.

'To what do you attribute your great age?' I asked.
'Fishing,' he said.

'Marvellous,' I said.'Fishing,' he said. 'And booze. And wimmin.'
'Even better,' I said. 'And how old are you?'
'Thirty-three.'

I just made that up. But I have come across several cases in which fishing has brought a hell of a shock to the participants. And probably knocked several years off their lives.

It knocked quite a few years off the natural span of an angler in Melbourne, Australia. (All right. I know you know where Melbourne is, but not everybody's that well up on the Anti-podes.)

All his life he had dreamed of a giant catch. He got one: a 58lb cod. As he landed it he dropped down dead.

His loving wife gave a funeral tea which befitted the passing of such a dedicated angler. It was a supper, actually: a fish supper. Cod fritters on a bed of clams with the departed's name written in instant mashed potato over the lot. Doubtless just as he would have wished.

Anyway needs must and all that because fishing is at the back of my mind at the moment, but walking well I enjoy that especially when the weather was nice and fair for this session. It didn't start well because road works, horse and carts, dawdler's and delinquents, still it only took about 25 minutes to get there (15 minutes back) and I got fishing quick enough.

The Zander had others ideas though and after leapfrogging the hot spot without a nibble I decided to move back up the stretch and try some more cover. After nearly being taken out by a waif like cyclist on a speed trial I managed to get the first bite on smelt, which I subsequently missed. Great !!! Anyway a good few hours fishing a good 300 yards of canal with nothing really to show for it.

I had another bite where the float went from zero to a half a metre pull in a second but the bite didn't develop assuming the fish felt resistance. The telltale puncture wound showed it was a small zedlet most likely and that was my lot. The fish were there for sure, but just not up for a feed, not uncommon at this time of year but I wish they would hurry up I need a bend in the rod. 😁

Warwickshire Trout - River Alne Pt.13

Well that urge to go fishing isn't really improving I must admit, not unusual during the close season admittedly but with the weather rather nice, I really needed a kick up the backside. Now the work situation came to a head on Monday where the current car I'm working on will reach JOB1 in August and the global business put up their hands and said, there will be no more new car projects for us in the UK.

Thanks for your efforts all, good work, now you can do one 👀

Not unexpected however and the writing has been on the wall for a while due to global influences (and not selling the cars in the number they would like) so it's not that it has come as a bit of a shock. It has been certainly a challenging project from start to finish, from a clean sheet of paper, design themes, 3D surfaces, concept design and layout and then detailed engineering of the components of the centre console, where much of that bashing from one’s CAD machine from my home office in COVID. 

I usually stop at post studio feasibility working with the Clay Modelers and the 3D geometry creators however this project has been the full automotive process from start to finish. 

A few challenging forks in the road too, where with parts off tool, there was a carve up of many of the components I've designed and also many throughout the car when a new architectural box of bits had to be repackaged. 

3mths of pain then came to try and keep the project on track, which considering its obvious challenges I can sit back and give me, and my immediate team a pat on the back.  I'm old and experiences enough having been in the trade for well over 30 years to not really be phased by it, but there are youngsters in the business that are visibly down not knowing what come next. I've tried to express the positives that will come of it, and networking is one of those. It's a small group of people that move around in the main and work comes off the back who you know really.

Up until this point there has been 2 previous culls of staff and this round will be the third where the UK team will be decimated and dribs and drabs remaining for those that want to stay. I see it as a natural stop in my career and it's time to move off on to something else. So with the VR process now underway at least I'll have a bit of breathing space to find the next project. It's a small team and like a big family really and I feel some pride in that I had a contribution to what will be the only 'proper' Polestar not a badge engineered jobby.  

Maybe if those forks in the road were taken differently by the management the outcome might have been entirely different. Oh well, we will never know, not like you can turn back time now is it. 

Well ok, I stand corrected 😁

Anyway I said I wasn't going to the Alne again after blanking recently but I fancied trying another stretch that sees more foot traffic and you would hope less predation because of that. So the gear was loaded in the car the night before and after work I went for a quick session. Mainly because the weather was nice and I fancied a walk in the nice afternoon sun.

What I didn't expect was an elderly gentleman who was geared up with his fly outfit and his homemade flies, which were that small I needed to put my reading glasses on to see them. 👀 

He'd blanked on the upper part of the river and was going to join me on the lower section. He was visibly shocked when I showed him what I have been using to catch the trout on the Alne, mainly because to be honest a Salmo Hornet in the large sizes are pretty chunky I suppose.

 

They have worked really well over the years and after showing him a few pictures of the fish I've caught, he actually said....

"I'm amazed, wow, I've never seen trout the size of that on the Alne and I've fished it for years, it's made me rethink my approach"

From a fluff chucker to a lure thrower, well I doubt that is going to happen but maybe he will up the size of his flies.

Anyway the river was low and clear and if I had one or two bites I'd have been happy but after a few nice looking swims without a nibble, I knew I'd be scratching around for bites. The wind had picked up and to be honest it wasn't exactly pleasant lure fishing conditions with it hacking through the open farmland like Rachel from Accounts Tax Rises. 

I only fished a couple of hours where I lost two lures and had the worlds biggest birds nest of braid when it all went horribly wrong on the cast, which concluded the session. I must have fished 6 or 7 swims and not only were there were no signs of fish whatsoever, but the fry too, non-existent.

Still it was nice to get out and hopefully I'll get out later today as I'm typing this as some jungle drums from Buffalo Si who has been winkling out the Zander from an area that was productive last season which in his words "It's fishing better than the Hallowed !!".

Transient Towpath Trudging - Pt.122 (Ruffe, Pike and Bream)

I'm almost having to force myself to go out at the moment as since the rivers have closed I haven't really had the urge to go fishing really. It's the fact that I want to keep up my >10,000 steps a day over the year which is giving me the kick up the jacksie I need, because otherwise I'd happy enjoy the duvet some more and a couple of plump pillows. 

I didn't expect to be scraping the ice off my windscreen as the weather seems to be picking up nicely with midweek next week where it's going to be circa 18 to 20 degrees I believe. 

It was rather nice though, and in around 4 hours or so managed nearly 18k steps after the fishing was a bit, well mehhhh !!

I had a Zander rod and also a float rod with bread and some groundbait to try and winkle out a fish or two. Anyway after the second cast of the float rod to try and gauge the depth I all of a sudden felt some resistance and something was on the end.

It turned out to me a ruffe 😍 that was foul hooked, well at least I hadn't blanked 👅

It was a welcome sight in the morning sun I must admit but nearly 40 minutes in without a bite on either rod I go itchy feet and decided to go on the rover. It's a very picturesque canal this and ok the fishing wasn't going well, but at least in the spring sun it was very pleasant indeed , well I say that quite a few landmines to avoid 💩which seems to the be the norm on the canal these days.

This area is usually quite productive but the water is still pretty cold despite the daytime temperatures trying to lift the mercury within those thermometers. 

So on towards bream bay past the pound that had barely any water in it where I tried a couple of swims on the way. In one swim I was fishing for 20 minutes or so when I decided to upsticks and I reeled in the Zander rod and something grabbed the bait on the retrieve. It didn't feel very mind you where the culprit revealed itself as a small jack pike.

Presumably it has been staring at the bait on the bottom and was in two minds whether or not to grab it when the roach sprung in to life when I picked up the rod and its predatory instinct took over. 

Bream bay always has some fish milling about mainly because it had plenty of features and a much wider bit of the canal where the fish feel comfortable. The reed cover looked much more sparse than I remembered but to be honest it didn't take long for a bite when fishing some cover for Zander, I also had the bread rod out for a patrolling bream.

I use a crude dinky Guru pellet waggler float that sits on the top of the surface like the Zander rod beside it. An overdepth set-up with a single SSG anchoring it to the bottom to resist the tow.

A really sensitive set-up and so easy to see what is going on under the float. I need not worry about this fish as it took the bait confidently where after a few bobbles on the surface it when straight under and I struck in to a solid fish.

I knew it was a bream from the slow plodding around because there are some kamikaze roach bream hybrids here, where my best is 4lb on the nose. This wasn't that size though but at least a fish to test the set-up. That was my lot, I did more walking than fishing but those bites were at a premium today. Very quiet down the cut I must admit, but then it's still early season really isn't it. The Zander well suspicious in their absence. 

Transient Towpath Trudging - Pt.121 (Canal Zander)

A lot of people think that dreams are boring and not worth discussing. But it has now been scientifically proved that they are incredibly important really and not boring at all because they reveal our character, our past, our future, and sometimes our friends' future, if we really know how to interpret them. In fact, the most boring dream you ever had will have more meaning than the most significant event in your so-called waking reality.

There are about one thousand theories about dreams, why we have them, what they mean, how long they last, whether we can have them when we are awake, what is illusion and what is fantasy, is life but a waking dream and so on. Some of these are a bit complicated and not very interesting, okay, but the subject is so important and I've read so many really freaky Test Your Own Dream Power books that I think I should go through them one by one. So, like, get your cup of tea now, okay?

The first one is that dreamland, the so-called Land of Nod, is in fact more real than the world we think is real because the one that's really real we always forget about as soon as we get out of bed so that it seems less real to us than the real one. But this Land of Nod is a special, magic realm where all the little everyday things we tend to take for granted become incredibly important for reasons we can never quite understand.

This brings me back to the question on which this second theory rests. In fact, some people think it's the question on which the whole of life rests. It's the heaviest question you could ever be asked, heavier than anything that's ever been on Mastermind. It is: WHAT IS REALITY?

I don't know.

The second theory about dreams is not quite as interesting as the first one. In fact, it's probably the most uninteresting one there is, apart from the six hundred and fifty seventh, which we'll be coming to a bit later. 

Are you ready for this? 

The sort of dreams you have depends on what you have just had to eat, or what you've had during the day if you happen not to have been to the toilet before you went to bed. 

So if you've eaten a really heavy hamburger, full of additives and sugar and salt and carbohydrates and colouring and blood and insecticides and nuclear waste and meat, you'll almost definitely dream about being a cowboy, surrounded by nuclear power plants, and you'll be shooting at everything. 

And every time the burger turns a corner in your intestine the dream will get more violent until the whole Mexican army, who have really bad teeth and don't look very well, gun you down like at the end of Bonnie and Clyde, except it's not blood that comes out of the bullet holes but little worms of meat, like a Big Mac being pushed through a mincer.

On the other hand, if you've just eaten a wholesome, satisfying, totally alternative plate of kidney beans, you'll most likely dream about running through the woods with Kate Beckinsale with sitar music playing . Or if the beans weren't soaked properly, you'll probably find that the meadow is a bit marshy in places and, if you've been really greedy, it will turn into a steaming, smelly quicksand that swallows you up.

Stilton Cheese and Port, don't even go there !!!

This theory shows how important it is for you to avoid constipation. Imagine what all those dreams piling up inside of you could do to the karma of your dreamworld. You could start getting really weird dreams about meat oozing out of quicksands, or cowboys playing the sitar.

So you could say that when you go to the toilet you're just getting rid of all your used dreams. Maybe that's why it's such a good place for writing songs! Hey!

I sometimes wonder what sort of dream you'd have if you'd swallowed three packets of bubble-gum? Or a lump of coal? Or a very long shopping-list? That would be a pretty boring dream, I suppose. Not that being boring makes it less important. This theory's quite a boring theory but it's probably true. 

Sometimes the truth is boring. Right? 

Well for me, another black cloud is hanging over the work situation, which will be the third time in 5 years 👿 EV cars don't you know, yeap very polarising especially where markets and consumers are concerned, so I suppose we were due another cull of staff, or a boot up the arse altogether. We should know more on Monday, but we will see but for some. 

An escape from reality would be nice now wouldn't it. Last weekend was perfect, a proper decent turn out from the lads and Seb Fontaine, Slipmat and Dave Pearce (and others) providing the low down frequencies that really were getting back to the old skool raving I used to do. Loved it !! 

So I wasn't exactly feeling it post the recent announcement, but I needed to get out and go fishing for some much needed fresh air and to try and catch a fish ot three. So I was back chasing Zander up at an area that provided some much needed rod bending this time last season where we assumed they were queued up for some bukkake action. So out with the smelt, out with the roach, lets get fishing !!!

Half an hour in to the fishing a bite came out of the blue on the smelt rod and it was a confident bite as well, but I pulled the bait out of the fishes mouth when I tightened up to the circle hook. Hmmmm two more similar bites where I didn't connect to the fish it usually only means one thing and that is small zedlets. It could well have been the same fish too as all bites were within the same stretch of cover.

Oddly the bites dried up but I had another chance an hour later when another section of cover produced a bite within a few minutes, however this times a fish was on. A welcome Zander around 4lb graced the net and a blank avoided, and its eye highlighting just why these predators are top dog.  

Warwickshire Trout - River Alne Pt.12

The draw to the cut is wavering I must admit, to be honest fishing the canals and rivers cannot be talked about in the same sentence for me. Canals are 'means to an end', yes I said it, but you have to look at the positives Mick, 

"Well what are they ?" 🤔

Well for one those steps can be ticked off which when you are often stuck behind a computer like I am and despite what some other anglers say, there are some nice fish to be caught on the canals. Ok it's not your sanctuary anymore, as you're sharing it with dog walkers, poo bag flingers, kamikaze cyclists, tiller twiddlers and dawdlers, but there are some more out of reach places, where the misanthrope can get his fix. 

I wasn't quite ready to go and tackle the silver fish turd tanglers in the canal just yet however as I'd leave those till early mornings but with a 'We Love Ibiza Weekender' starting tomorrow where 12 of us would we raving it up for a mates Stag Do, I needed that fishing fix otherwise I'd not get out till next week now.

So a quick but tasty meal of Phat Kaphrao, which is Soooooo easy to make and probably one of my favorite Thai dishes the gear was in the car and I was off to go and bother some trout on the Alne with the Salmo Hornet, it was a lovely day nearing 19 degrees but I only had two hours max, which to be honest is about all I'd fish for anyway.

A little early in the season I suppose with the close season for brown trout and rainbow trout in rivers, and for brown trout in unenclosed stillwaters, under the Midlands byelaws is 8 October to 17 March. But a couple of days in to the season it was worth a try I suppose, because be nice to see of the herons, cormorants and otters I've seen on this stretch in the coarse season hadn't eaten them all. !! 

The river was low and clear but perfect for fishing for trout as I could see the lure under the polarised sunglasses and it can be exciting fishing when the trout are on it. Swiping snatches and they literally come out of nowhere.

After trying a couple of the deeper swims where the bigger fish often reside without a take, I headed down to the weir where the recently fallen in tree seemed to have moved a bit. So much so it meant my usual vantage point was no longer fishable. I could just about sneak in to a position in the middle of the weir where a handful of tricky casts brought naff all. 

Usually the smaller trout live there but none today and on this stretch it's the banker swim really. Anyway there is plenty to go at here so I headed up the stretch to fish those likely holding swims. 

Cast after cast in rather lovely sunshine those trout were just not showing at all. I fished just shy of a couple of hours and in that time I would usually catch one or two fish, or on a good day 5 or 6. I lost my fishing reading glasses at one point and after retracing my steps to no avail, I called it a day. I'll leave it a month I think like I usually do as it's not that productive early season looking back at my blog.

Still a really nice spring day to be out and ok I didn't catch any fish this really is a place to seek the time in solitude that I need in ever increasing numbers, a slice if heaven so to speak.