Friday, 30 January 2009

The roach bug bites...

I'm a funny fella. Like all true Fellows of the Rod, if I have a success on the one day, then I believe that that success must be repeated (or indeed, not) the very next day
, or at the very earliest next opportunity, or it might just be a fluke, and flukes are for the lucky, and as I don't believe a word in the lexicon of luck, I must KNOW, for sure, one way, or the other, is that pound roach a one off, or, is it one of many more, some far larger than it?

So, of course, I used up my available hours between one stint of morning work, and another in the evening, fishing. I returned to Grassy Bend, the location of my little success to fish again for the mahussive roach that I truly imagined might well inhabit that place, where, only yesterday, I had triumphed.

I can only report a dismal and utter failure. Where before I had cause for hope, now I have only cause to hope for hope. It was not to be. That middling roach, of a pound or so, that had graced my net, and my dreams, did not reappear. Nor did its far larger brethren. It was three hours of raw expectancy roasting slowly upon the spit of time. My meal was dejection. The roach, the big fat roach of my dreams, were not sharing my party mood. My lob went unsniffed, and I went home, well not quite, defeated.



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