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I hope that you find my journal interesting and entertaining. If, having read this, you think that I am talking rubbish then at least you have stopped and thought about it long enough to come to that conclusion which is something of a result in my book. If you would like to comment on this article or anything else relating to my website, please feel free to contact me using the adjacent form. Feedback is always greatly appreciated and very helpful when it comes to improving both my site and my angling. Thank you for looking. If this form will not work for you, please e-mail me at editor@ericweight.co.uk
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Such a perfect day.

Venus hung in the air, leading the way back to yesterday’s peg at the saplings. Too dark to see again but not raining at least. Just so, so still. The mist curled and lifted off the water as the sun eased itself up into the sky and the world started over. A tawny owl whoo,whooed its goodnights and a foolish moorhen Brrrppped in alarm, flapping and falling off of the ‘too thin’ stem of willow herb that it had felt the need to clamber up. An early sparrowhawk nipped along the bank looking for breakfast and the moorhen sheepishly quietened down, realising perhaps how lucky it had been to fall at that moment. A second or two later and it would have been right in the hawk’s sights.

  

“Hup, Hup!” the cows heading back up the lane at the herdsman’s call, eager to be milked and back out on the dew-laden grass. It was like being alive in a constable painting. Very little to give away which century I was sitting in and just for a brief while the atmosphere was timeless as the scene in front of me.

The hair-fine tip of my fishing rod curved delicately into the mist and I lifted into the first fish of the morning. How could this get any better? It couldn’t, and it didn’t. The canal was covered in oily swirls as fish of all sizes turned under the surface enjoying the same glorious golden dawn that I was, but they never fed, not properly anyway. I added a nice hybrid to the two half decent bream, but really a huge bag of fish would have spoiled the day. It was a day for enjoying the cherries on the cake rather than gorging on it. Just enough fish was perfect. Such a perfect day. I know how Lou felt when he wrote that. Such a perfect day.

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