So, I really don’t know what I’m doing here. A new decade, an old dog. New tricks.

Have managed to gain an old glass rod and a Mitchell 300 reel.

I haven’t coarse fished, apart from with a seven year old in tow since I was a teenager. I’m plagued with doubts when I put the float on, doubts when I cast and doubts when I sit watching the orange tip of the handmade wooden float bob under a dark January sky.

But, as the weak sun slips behind the trees and the night slinks into the corners around me the float slips under the onyx surface and I’m a kid again. Doubts for a second vanquished.

The enforced calm that comes from focussing on a float takes me by surprise. I thought fly fishing gave a zen like appreciation of the environment around me but this, this sitting still with the float shifting in and out of focus with each breath, with the imagined dips and bobs; this is something else.

One tiny perch is all it took.

I’ll be back.

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