Time was when fishing was to me a leisurely, day long (or sometimes several days long) pastime, but that was when I was much younger. When you're a child or teenager time seems to collect and linger, while in your middle years it races inexorably onward. Consequently, my angling exploits are now usually rapidly planned and squeezed into the spaces of busy days: "time like a never ending stream" as the hymn writer put it.
This evening I elected not to fish, but rather to accompany my 13 year old son, whose own fishing equally has the feel of "smash and grab" due to his being dependant on lifts from me. Normally we fish together, but on this occasion I fancied watching and acting as nets-man and general gopher.
After a scorching day, the weather had turned decidedly cloudy as we drove to the small, commercial-style carp lake, and by the time of our arrival the rain was falling. Two rods were hastily set up and cast out with boilies on an in-line bolt rig and PVA bags filled with crushed boilies and pellets.
After half an hour the rain abated, and an hour into the session the right hand rod, whose bait was positioned under the trailing branches of a bankside tree screamed into life. A short but spirited fight followed, and a mirror carp rolled over the rim of the net. It was a chunky fish, almost fully scaled, but had clearly met an inexpert angler on a former trip to the bank, and displayed signs of unfortunate damage to the mouth.
Out went the rod again, and shortly after settling, the bobbin was bouncing and the bite alarm giving the characteristic single tone scream. This time the run was on the other rod, fished in the left hand margin. A longer fight resulted in a smaller carp, this time a common.
There were no more fish to follow, but it was a happy and satisfied young angler (and equally happy Dad) who pulled out of the car park less than three hours after arriving. An evening of rain, sunshine, father and son bonding and a brace of carp- what more could we have asked for?