When I walk the Jack Russells during March and April I always say to Sue, I can smell trout. This must be some long and deeply embedded memory of trout fishing when I was a child in North Yorkshire and the smell of crushed plants and grass wafted up as you walked to the river or stream. This year, at that time, the smell was of hospital and operating theatres as the good people at Frimley park Hospital reconstructed my knee with saws, drills, titanium, plastic, glue and screws. A big thank you. You did a great job and the new knee has even speeded me up in the rush to the bar. The music on the iPod with legal morphine was good too.
The trout fishing did start late for me but there were beautiful trout all through the season taken on surface flies and nymphs ending with the best of the year, in fact the best ever, of 7lb 6oz.
The biggest event of the year was the arrival of the first grandchild, William Michael and a problem; what sort of rod do I get him for our first fishing expedition? I'm sure those great problem solvers at 'Andrews of Arcadia' will bring their expertise to bear.
The everyday things remain bonuses; walking the dogs with Sue, my family, fishing water of any sort, the sound of water, looking over bridges, weather in all of it's many guises, the British landscape, good beer, Jack Russells and the smell of printing ink. Sue and I finding bits of England we didn't know existed. Staying in a pub where you could help yourself to fine draught beer (yes, really), Fantastic.
Supporting the 'Boro' through yet another agonizing premier league season. (I resisted the cliche 'roller coaster').
There have been some great books too, many recommended by CBTR including anything by Roger Deakin, Nature's Engraver, the life of Thomas Bewick by Jenny Uglow, American Detective Stories, Wildwood, The Wild Places by Robert Macfarlane, Crow Country by Mark Cocker, Footy Rocks by John Nicholson, Trout from the Hills by Ian Niall, Night Haunts by Sukhdev Sandhu, Murder as a Fine Art by De Quincy and many more.
Great sounds from the Heavenly Jukebox too, thanks Jeff, and loads more. Rediscovering The Flying Burritto Brothers. The most bizarre musical experience was Sue and I going to The Dublin Castle in Camden to see our nephew's band, Audio Bomber, and lowering the average age of the audience to about 15...
Now, next year, more fishing and more of the above. Except for thre knee bit that is.
Two Terriers Press
