Warwickshire Avons - Taskrabbits and Taseometers

"Kill two birds with one stone," she said, propped up on the sofa with her shoulder strapped up like a mummy. "Collect those parcels then take yourself down the river for a few hours."

Well, it would be rude not to, wouldn't it?

So there I was, back on familiar waters, as this new season I've not really gone anywhere else. The barbel had been milling about proper barbel too, not the usual suspects. Course, when there is barbel about on the Warwickshire Avon , you've got to have a dabble. Basic angling law, that is.

Now I didn't get bankside till gone eight. Had a proper chinwag with some familiar faces including Buffalo Si from river masters who had to pack up around the witching hour, as he was working a night shift later !!. After the mandatory river gossip and weather analysis, I bait-dropped some pellets into this deeper swim that looked promising. Let it rest while I buggered about in another spot for an hour, because that's what you do, isn't it? Can't just sit in one place like a normal person.

First swim was a complete washout. Had these decent chub cruising about like they owned the place, giving my baits the sort of look you'd give a dodgy kebab at 3am. Interested but not committed. Story of my fishing life.

Right, back to the pellet swim then. Soon as I settled in, the flying brigade arrived. Midges, mosquitos, things with more legs than a Yorkshire pub crawl the lot. Proper vicious they were. I'm there swatting away like some demented windmill when the rod tip finally does something other than collect cobwebs.

Now, I know what a barbel bite feels like. That proper thump that goes right through you. This was close enough to get the pulse racing. In the gathering gloom, with the insects still having a field day on my neck, I'm thinking "this is it, first barbel of the season."

Wasn't though, was it?

Nice chub mind. Proper lump of a chub that put up a decent scrap. But still a chub. The barbel are probably somewhere downstream having a right laugh at my expense. Again.

Still, wife's happy, parcels are collected, and I've been thoroughly reminded why fishing's called angling and not catching. Could be worse at least Buffalo Si wasn't there to witness the anticlimax. That 'women love me, fish fear me' cap he wears would've been shaking with laughter. 😁