The glorious 16th has arrived again and as ever, the thought of that first slightly clumsy cast into the clear, flowing water is driving me to distraction.
My optimism is both blind and unchecked. This will be the year that I finally manage a double figure barbel; a seven pound chub; a huge river perch; a monster roach and a pike of staggering proportions. I can almost picture my carefully worked float, slowly meandering towards a deeper hole in the river, pausing, before sliding slowly yet purposefully beneath the water. And I can almost feel the cool, sharp late autumn air on my face as the pike float starts to move silently across a misty backwater that is home to a monster.
On June 16th anything seems possible. And long may it continue to do so.