Trout, in the fields

I nearly went mackerel fishing today, after receiving a tip-off they're catching a boatload of them off one of the beaches a few miles up the coast.

I got as far as rooting around for a spool of 6lbs mono I bought last time I nearly went mackerel fishing, but didn't actually get around to putting on a reel.

Then I remembered I didn't have any ice or a clean coolbox. So I did what I did last time I nearly went mackerel fishing but didn't have any ice or a clean coolbox and went pike fishing instead.

There was a bit of water I fancied a look at, to check out the lie of the land for a few weeks' time. A mate put me onto it, so I sent him a text out of politeness. My phone buzzed as I was loading the car. I'm working, wanker. Hope you fall in.

I took one look at it and decided it wasn't worth the effort in the heat, so I went exploring instead. I followed a creek off the marshes, beyond the old mill race long past where the tidal influence ends. I clocked up a first for several years on a swift glide, where the stream skirts fields of blue and the air was thick with the scent of lavender.

A lean wild brown trout holds lazily in the current, with flicks of its tail.