We all trotted up to Spencers Bridge yesterday for the selection match for the upcoming AT Winter League.
We could've walked miles past the permanently moored schooner, then both sets of wires to the cyanide stretch and the nana bridge, but instead we went the other way towards Moss Bridge. If nowt else it served as a wake-up call for squad members - and a likely sign of things to come.
Before the draw, we had a few announcements, including a little 'montage' of the more humorous events from previous series this year. Among those were two which attracted a couple of presentations. One was a bag of VDE Secret for 3Bs and his small archipeligo of the stuff at Adlington in the Spring League. The other was a pair of swimming trunks for Wrighty after Tommy Fairhurst nearly reported him for wading at the back of the drum factory when he went in after his butt section in the Teams of 4. Take the 'S' off those Speedos and you'll soon be on a list, lad...
Onto the match, and it really was a grind - I drew the second peg down from the Tawd overflow, which turned into a lazy-arsed boaters roundabout. No sooner had the first one plodded through (bang on the all-in) than he spun round at the end of us and came straight back again...
Steve Barrett was on my right and he was into small fish straight away. Next to him John "I've not got a Lostock MG tattoo - honest" Atherton was also seen sneaking a fish in early doors. While those two switched to their bagging rigs, me and Mark Adams were squirming at the distinct lack of life in front of either of us. We fed the usual lines but nothing showed. We fed some other lines - still nothing showed. Fishing long and short wasn't working, so I decided to cripple myself early and went right across. I was rewarded by a pair of eyes, followed by another - interrupted straight away by another boat.
Elsewhere on the length, it was just as bad, if not worse in places. Cleggy went to get his coat and came back telling us of how bad it was. Boats were overtaken by cyclists as the main target for frustration - DO THEY NOT HAVE BELLS ON BLOODY BIKES ANY MORE??? These buggers sneak up on you (what happened to the rhythmic click of the Sturmey Archer hub?) and then look all affronted when you give 'em a gob-full for not stopping. I had a walker try to rip my pole up & out of my pole-sock, thinking he was doing me a favour - then a jogger came past making noises like a busted pair of bellows. What a motley crew...
I threw caution to the wind in the last half hour and went after the sniggery-diggery-doo-dahs I'd been feeding a swim for sporadically. I was sat on my pole, trying to pour a quick brew when the float dipped, stopped then dipped away completely. Down went the flask, up went the pole and out came the 8-10 Middy Hi-Viz (available in all good tackle shops...). In came a 7oz billy and a smile spread across my boat. Cries of outrage could be heard from peg 1 soon followed from peg 3; they don't like it up 'em Capt. Mainwaring...
The all-out came and off we toddled down to the other end with the Avons. Several tales of woe were heard including reports of a snake-charmer (more of that in 2 tix) until we got to the far end. A few mini-billies were tipped out and the precision of the beam was tested down to the last dram. The same story was repeated a couple of times until we came to our very own Mr. Porter (not the Third World Class one). He hoisted the net onto the bank and there was a snake in the bottom. With 1-13-12 on the scale his was the stand-out weight to beat (seriously).
We made our way down the rest of the pegs and apart from a couple of nice fish in 3Bs net which totalled 0-13-summat, there was only John Atherton who pushed Paul with 1-2-summat. I finished up in third spot with 0-14-0 and by the time I'd finished with the sheet, we had the team for the first match.
Despite it being bone-hard on the fish front, nobody blanked and it was a valuable exposure to the whole squad of just what we'll be facing in the league.
Good luck everyone - I don't think we'll be on a harder venue, but that'll be made up for by the opposition.
Onto the match, and it really was a grind - I drew the second peg down from the Tawd overflow, which turned into a lazy-arsed boaters roundabout. No sooner had the first one plodded through (bang on the all-in) than he spun round at the end of us and came straight back again...
Steve Barrett was on my right and he was into small fish straight away. Next to him John "I've not got a Lostock MG tattoo - honest" Atherton was also seen sneaking a fish in early doors. While those two switched to their bagging rigs, me and Mark Adams were squirming at the distinct lack of life in front of either of us. We fed the usual lines but nothing showed. We fed some other lines - still nothing showed. Fishing long and short wasn't working, so I decided to cripple myself early and went right across. I was rewarded by a pair of eyes, followed by another - interrupted straight away by another boat.
Elsewhere on the length, it was just as bad, if not worse in places. Cleggy went to get his coat and came back telling us of how bad it was. Boats were overtaken by cyclists as the main target for frustration - DO THEY NOT HAVE BELLS ON BLOODY BIKES ANY MORE??? These buggers sneak up on you (what happened to the rhythmic click of the Sturmey Archer hub?) and then look all affronted when you give 'em a gob-full for not stopping. I had a walker try to rip my pole up & out of my pole-sock, thinking he was doing me a favour - then a jogger came past making noises like a busted pair of bellows. What a motley crew...
I threw caution to the wind in the last half hour and went after the sniggery-diggery-doo-dahs I'd been feeding a swim for sporadically. I was sat on my pole, trying to pour a quick brew when the float dipped, stopped then dipped away completely. Down went the flask, up went the pole and out came the 8-10 Middy Hi-Viz (available in all good tackle shops...). In came a 7oz billy and a smile spread across my boat. Cries of outrage could be heard from peg 1 soon followed from peg 3; they don't like it up 'em Capt. Mainwaring...
The all-out came and off we toddled down to the other end with the Avons. Several tales of woe were heard including reports of a snake-charmer (more of that in 2 tix) until we got to the far end. A few mini-billies were tipped out and the precision of the beam was tested down to the last dram. The same story was repeated a couple of times until we came to our very own Mr. Porter (not the Third World Class one). He hoisted the net onto the bank and there was a snake in the bottom. With 1-13-12 on the scale his was the stand-out weight to beat (seriously).
We made our way down the rest of the pegs and apart from a couple of nice fish in 3Bs net which totalled 0-13-summat, there was only John Atherton who pushed Paul with 1-2-summat. I finished up in third spot with 0-14-0 and by the time I'd finished with the sheet, we had the team for the first match.
Despite it being bone-hard on the fish front, nobody blanked and it was a valuable exposure to the whole squad of just what we'll be facing in the league.
Good luck everyone - I don't think we'll be on a harder venue, but that'll be made up for by the opposition.
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