It's Monday and I'm Hank Marvin, because I've forgotten my food. I've got several jars of that powdered tea from the pound shop, which does contain glucose and hydrogenerated vegetable oil (as well as anti-caking agent E341, whatever that is...) but it's not quite the same as proper eating stuff. As in food, like what you need a fork for.
I was going to wind the rods in and head for the nearest garage, but bream started rolling two-thirds of the way across the river and I wondered if the shoal might have a pike or two following it.
So I re-bait and throw all three across, landing one so close to a bream the surface erupts as it bow-waves off for the far margin. Half an hour later and the bream have cleared off a couple of swims upstream, where they're now bubbling away on the bottom.
The river's flat calm and as the sun sinks into the haze it's got lost cause written all over it. By the time I've twitched the baits back across the river, the geese are squealing overhead and a barn owl's patrolling the far bank.
Someone's stuck a couple of great big banners by the road near Downham Market. Don't Worry. Be Happy.
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