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Work, ethics & poetry

It was so big you could hear it swimming !   All fish from the Ribble The river is a constant play ground – our whats’app group is full of digital bullets like these above – its hard to get anything done ! Thanks to all the boys Rocky, Malc, Tommo, Mick, Marc, Karl, Clint, Phil, Peter, Colin, Ryan, Simon, John, Paul  – Ahab and Lamont 2016 Spring – Let It Roll I decided some weeks ago that it was about time I shook off my mid season funk and get out there and get some…..I needed an injection of rhythm to chase away the blues. April had nipped in and mugged me while I was day dreaming about time being on my side,…. no rush, ease my way in, stay calm, digest the info then respond appropriately….reports of April Ribble springers had smash and grabbed me and made me engage in the odd hour of hit and run. No rush, ease my way in – May would soon be here and it was bound to be …

Chapter 5 from Terminal Chancer – Clint Best vs The Cosmos

  One of my most pleasurable experiences had come while staring down the neck end of competitive sports fishing. It played out like this: Aged 22 I had entered my local club’s fly fishing competition – The NALGO shield. National Association of Local Government Officers – in case you were wondering. Placed three miles from my home as the crow flew there was a small three acre lake named Jeffery Pond in the middle of Woodfold Country Estate. The lake was fun to fish, well stocked with rainbows, fictional massive browns and although not far from the reaches of the town, it was absolutely rural. Sixteen rods entered and two heats of eight went at it over four hours. Best weight won, top two went through to a semi final draw to fish the same rules head to head after drawing pegs. The winners of the semis faced each other on a Saturday morning July final. In those days I liked to think of myself as the fly fishing outsider, a northern Huck Finn. I …