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.
