Going back to my roots

Once again I have looked looked back and realised that I hadn’t been keeping up to date with my writing.

Life’s just been too, well for want of a better word, full.  Just too much to do; work, garden, work, play. اربح فلوس مجانا Employee, dad, partner.

It’s felt a little like there’s no headspace to be able to write about the stuff I want to write about.

What to do?

Well, I think it’s time to go back to my roots.  I started writing about fishing on the river Nadder back some time in the early 2000’s, hence the site’s name.  It was a simple blog about going fishing and photos of the things I saw.

I don’t fish as much as I did, back then it was an escape from a miserable life.  But, it’s still something I’m passionate about and that’s enough fuel for writing.

So going forwards by going backwards, I’m just going to write for me here.  Mostly about playing on the Nadder and the other waters around me, but also about life out here in the sticks and anything else that takes my fancy. قوانين البوكر

April 1st has come round again. The opening date for fishing on the rivers hereabouts.  This year however we’ve had weeks and weeks of non stop rain. The rivers have been high and coloured like ovaltine for days and there’s no real chance of a fish on opening day.

I bide my time.

I plant the spuds.

Then the sun comes out for a day.

Then another day.

Then I seize my opportunity and slope off to Harnham Mill for a couple hours in late Friday afternoon sunshine.

The river is pushing through hard, visibility is poor but not as bad as I’d feared.  I can see my feet through about 3′ of water the colour of a weak green tea as I step into the sides of the pool. إنشاء حساب payeer  The current pulls at me, if I was less sure of where I was, less sure of the shape of the gravel bottom here I’m not sure I’d be wading in.  In unknown water I could be bobbing off towards Cristchurch quite easily.

My waders leak.  They really are shit.  I can’t afford new ones this summer so I’m just going to have to put up with it.  By the time I’m up to my waist in the water my left foot is soaked.

But, you know what? It really doesn’t matter today.  Today for all it’s faults I’m back on the river.  Back feeling the Nadder surround me.

Two hours. One fish and a change of clothes. Season started.

Back to my roots.

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