The canals again. Of course they are. Like a bad kebab or an ex you swore you’d never text, they have a funny way of pulling you back in. No...

The final day of the river season always arrives a bit like the last day of school equal parts excitement, nostalgia, and the quiet suspicio...

Back at the syndicate stretch again, embarking on that most noble of late-season quests: winkle out a half-respectable chub before the curta...

There is, I’m often asked, a reason why I remain gloriously absent from the glowing circus tent that is social media. The answer is quite si...

It was one of those clear Warwickshire evenings when the Avon moves like a thoughtful old philosopher, slow, green, and apparently pondering...