Slight return, and disappearance, of the mojo

Maybe it was scanning some old slides. Maybe it was the warming sun. Whatever it was I filled my flask with tea, checked over the contents of my rucksack and sling, put some baits in a cool bag and loaded the lot into the back of my car yesterday around one. Then I donned my bunny suit and boots, jumped in the car and reversed onto the street. Where the car promptly refused to go into gear. Any gear.

The minor slope into my gateway was too much for me. If Brenda from next door hadn't come to my rescue and helped me push the bloody thing I'd have left it in the middle of the road. Car unpacked, garage phoned, mojo well and truly departed. I'm convinced cars know when you're thinking of changing them and deliberately break down making you waste money on them in the hope you'll hang on to them a bit longer. Or perhaps this was a sign that's it's time to put the rods away for good? Somehow I doubt that.

In a bid to keep this blog active I've been considering telling some tales from the dim and distant past. Scanning slides was a precursor to that. When, or if, this will happen I don't know. It'll mean digging out the slides and the diaries to make semi-accurate accounts of some memorable days pike fishing in the last century and this. Don't hold your breath though!

In the meantime some pics from the past.

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