Cold War, Sweeps and Oz

A few weeks to go and September fishing for brown trout is uncharacteristically tedious.

There are plenty of fish about, too many on some bends as a plop of a clunky nymph can send several charging about on the bottom. The water is incredibly clear, but that's the case most Septembers, and there is fly and the occasional fish deigns to rise but to call the things suspicious would be to underplay the situation. I've a suspicion we've once again drawn the eye of the Otter which will put all bar the dumbest fish on edge and I do feel obliged to offer apologies for our fish's circumspection as another frustrated angler heads home. It could pick up yet as fish will undoubtedly feed before spawning but it will more than likely be sub surface and its carefully placed drab nymphs that enter the water with the least splash that will take fish.

That or shock them with a Daddy Long Legs as their numbers are currently on the rise in our kitchen.

I'll break off there as it's that time of year again when we are contractually obliged to mention the establishment featured on the left.

That's the Fleet St Hotel folks, if you're ever in Dublin and I'd recommend a visit for the stand up comedy alone, give this place a go
(if you do check in, please mention this house)

Pheasants have found their feet and starting to wander and each day Otis and I must remind them of where they are supposed to be.

The previous piece of guff drew comment that the dog didn't feature often enough and could we see more of the thing on these pages.

It's a populist trick much pulled by the likes of Monty Don, John Noakes and Bob Carolgees to garner support for their work,


but one that I personally feel would dilute the gravity of the piece should it be employed here,

Lord Ludgershall is still with us and while we have had no requests for further pictures of "His Eminence", here's one of him in his new role of sweep (note the ermine disguised as fleece)

He came across some clever chimney cleaning equipment on the internet while undertaking a search of the amazon for a "small child to send up chimney"

I think that's what he said. my ears aren't what they were

The chimney sweep kit is driven by an electric drill and does a very good job, Ok you don't get a certificate, but I am reliably informed such things can be sourced on a Darkweb, whatever that is.

We have already booked Lord Ludg and his drill and brush combo for next year.

This week we said goodbye to our nonagenarian neighbour.

She's still alive and I'm confident she'll live for quite some years yet, but after a nasty fall one night last winter which required the expert first aid skills of the lady who sleeps on my left and a late night ride in an ambulance for myself three parts foxed and outside of two thirds of a bottle of claret after a particularly good piece of beef for dinner and the neighbour with a large hole in her head. It all ended well, although my recovery was significantly swifter than the neighbour's who was understandably shaken up by the experience (the fall, not the ride in the ambulance with me outside several glasses of red)

She drove her car past her ninetieth year and for some years used to pick up a lady in the next village who couldn't drive, who she would pay to do a few hours ironing . Collection included a mile long drive along the busy dual carriageway oft described as "The Highway to the Sun" A few years ago the lady detailed to undertake ironing duties expressed concerns about our neighbour driving along the dangerous stretch of road to pick her up and proposed that the arrangement should cease. To which our indomitable neighbour replied:

"Don't be silly Anne, I'd rather risk my life on the A303 than have to do my own ironing, I'll be over again next week!"

It was an important source of income for Anne and Mrs R didn't come across as someone who warmed to ironing, so the arrangement worked and continued for a few years after.

We gathered for tea they day before her departure and she held her own on discussion around the use of the pink ball in international cricket.

t won't be quite the same next door but I think it is for the best and the decision to take up the offer to live with her daughter was one that she was able to make for herself.

In other news:

With academic stuff and the cricket season done, Child B has hit the yellow brick road and currently resides in Oz.

Melbourne to be precise,


a bit of work, a bit of cricket with South Yarra CC and a bit of a look around.

Which is terrific, Madam and myself are tres envious and may pop over one weekend, although I do know a little about the place after receiving a small cheque some years ago for a piece of written guff regarding things to do and places to stay for an American website.

Wikipedia and Google served as my guide and it was quite a bizarre experience and if we do ever visit the place I don't think I'll be re- reading my recommendations, but when you next read a travel review for some such place or other, have at the back of your mind that the writer of the piece may not have actually visited the place.

I had cause to mix with local town society today. We kindly received a gift from family for our Silver Wedding anniversary of Thomas Cook travel tokens.
Never ones to hold on to trove for long we thought we'd get them spent and had an idea for a quick trip away. Unfortunately in the current age such things cannot be cashed in online and so it was that after walking dogs, and feeding both pheasants and fish I sallied forth to sample the anti meridian fleshpots of our local urban environs.

To find that my target travel agent didn't open until 10.00am on a Tuesday (staff training apparently)

With thirty minutes to lose I went for a walk, and at this point I could go on at length about the demise of our local high street. There are many coffee shops (some with parking for mobility scooters outside) many charity shops, many mobile phone shops and many empty units and a sound track provided by a large and aged burger van whose proprietor loudly proclaims wares of dubious source for the price of a pound to all who pass.

There are now a quartet of establishments of behemothic proportions that dominate the High St

The million dollar quartet are as follows:

Poundland, Poundworld, Poundstretcher and Wilkinson with The Range sitting on the subs bench down on the ring road.

Everything that Woolworths forgot to be,

Whither poor Winfield

Anyway, to the travel agents.

With the required time passed, I entered previously mentioned travel agent and expressed my disappointment that I had been forced to suffer the voluble burger man and early morning town society after not being able to complete my transaction online and could we seal the deal toute de suite as I had to get on? and didn't he know there was grass to be cut.

I presented my vouchers, drummed my fingers on the desk and waited for the assistant's response.

He studied my vouchers closely, raised his gaze to meet my eye and gently informed me that there were two travel agents in town beginning with the letter "T"

The one in which I currently resided was Thomson and he was very sorry but he would be unable to honour the vouchers and suggested I try the other travel agent that began with the letter T , the Thomas Cook establishment opposite Marks and Spencer.

I made my excuses and left muttering darkly about businesses sharing the opening four letters in their title, pausing on my way to the correct travel agent to make an appointment at Specsavers., which thankfully maintains a presence on our high street among the coffee emporia and charity parlours
.

Reports must soon be written and mental notes are being made while mowing about what to make mention of, most of which is forgotten by the time I sit down to write the things. Numbers of fish caught this year are up on the previous two seasons, despite a reduced number of hours of anglers being on the bank (we still maintain a long injury list amongst our regulars) Water levels at the beginning of the season were at frighteningly low levels, but we've muddled through thanks to a wet August and the powers that be refraining from drawing River Dever water out of the ground and sending it down the Candover stream. Hawthorn and Mayfly hatches were good but hatches of olives and sedge have been disappointing. Weed growth has been ok, although blanket weed has put in a late spurt and currently beach ball sized blobs of the stuff are rolling their way down the river.

I'm off the news at the moment (not in an newsworthy way) but the world's gone mad and several seem to be under the illusion that we have another planet to go to should things not go to plan on this one.

When faced with Armageddon this child of both the Cod and Cold wars found immersion in humour or nonsense deeply soothing,

and yes, dogs help,

but by way of balm, here's that video that broke the internet the other week,