Dog days of autumn continue

We walk half a mile before I find a half-interesting stretch and set to work with the lure rod. It's fresh and blowy and by the third gap in the reeds, I'm feeling hungry. The dog looks on expectantly, as I open the rucksack.

His tail is still wagging, as it dawns on me I've left his food in the car. The dog chomps half of my food instead. Sausage and onion sandwiches, with onion relish.

The dog has not completely behaved himself. He is just as capable of disrupting my efforts to lure fish as wrecking the peace and quiet of a day's deadbaiting. I can't, however, blame another blank day on the dog.

I have a feeling water clarity's got a lot to do with it. I don't think I've ever seen anywhere in the Fens as clear as the river we fished today. The fish must surely still be there. I just need to work out how to start catching them.

At least one hunch proved spot-on today. Not even air con on full blast can shift the foul smells from the back seat, as the dog dozes on the way home, digesting sausage and onion, with onion relish.