I woke with that familiar, half-formed optimism that only an angler can truly appreciate: the belief that today might be the day, despite a...

There are times on the Warwickshire Stour when you feel less like an angler and more like an unpaid extra in a low-budget natural history do...

There are moments, usually around three in the morning when the tinnitus starts doing its own ambient remix, that I find myself wondering wh...

The forecast, that modern oracle of disappointment, had confidently predicted rain, and for once it was bang on the money. Not the pleasant,...

Friday couldn’t come soon enough. By about 11:29am I was sat at my desk vibrating like a fridge with a dodgy motor, convinced that the preci...