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The Lady of the Stream

Back at the Windrush the following morning and my heart's just not in it. Too full of breakfast and news from home. Still, it's too pretty not to try so after Sean leaves for London I settle into the spot under the tree (useful as it looks like rain) and try rolling a worm under the nearside bank...

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Questions, questions...

So why do we do it? Back at Blenheim Palace lake again after a break of a few years, it's 2.00pm on a day that can't make up its mind. Later on it will actually rain out of what appears to be a clear blue sky. Twice. I haven't had a bite since that solitary dip just before 9.00am...

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Cider with Windrush

A short post this...with a glass of Stowford's cider on top of it. The river in the background is the Windrush, just a spit over the border into Gloucestershire. I was fortunate enough to spend a couple of nights at a pub that enjoys a short stretch of water that's full of brown trout...

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Caster pussycat

In the spirit of new things, I resisted the urge to return to the river with - literally - exactly the same bait as last time and instead, bought some shiny new casters from a tackle shop that Ray recommended. I liked it...

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...a sudden hot sharp stink of pike...

Returning to the river with Ray I feel like a footballer who's been injured and thus missed pre-season. He already has two trips under his belt and moves assuredly from the car to the stile, points out the long-rotten but newly broken slats over the little bridge and aims for a path that's been knocked through the long grass of a wild meadow...

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