I did not have a strong urge to escape today, but after the rudeness and annoyance of yesterday's liturgical interruption I needed restoring. I woke this morning with many thoughts. First, how about another hour's sleep; second, my God, this coffee's good. And third, I'm going fishing today. And so after the school run I returned home, did my traditional trip to the "dump," and then set about preparing simple tackle. The ponds I wanted to fish involved a few miles of walking through the woods to the north west of here, so this would have to be a light pack. A telescopic rod, reel, and various bits of fishing kit (including a tub of worms) all fitted into a small House of Hardy canvas shoulder bag.
Having parked the car and walked to the west bank of Scoy Pond I realized that I had not paid attention to the weather. That bank had been in shade all the day and the previous night's frost had left a veneer of thin ice across most of the water. Time to walk around, through thick brush in places, to the east bank. There the water was clear, and I set up the rod.
A hour of great sport followed, with many yellow perch being caught. Ordinarily I would have kept a few, as they are delicious when pan-cooked, but on this sunny, late autumn day, I returned them all to the water. Except one, that is. He was firmly hooked, and I was reeling him in when there was a swirl of water, a violent snatch, and my line went limp. From my fishing days in Devon, UK, I knew what that meant. There's a pike in that water... and I will return. With the correct tackle.
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