Well what a finish to the season! A trip to Hemmings Fishing Tackle in Penge saw me part with about £30 for bait and a very nice Chub body warmer for about the same price. Now £60 quid poorer, I arrived home to get my gear ready for the last day.
In the morning I had a very nice breakfast and set off. I had planned a later start and intended to fish into the evening for barbel. Five miles down the road I had one of those lightbulb moments and remembered my folder with the permits and combination lock number was still on the dining table, ******! Turned around and got them. When I arrived at the fishery I opened the gate and drove in, as I drove nearer to the river I noticed some deep grooves where others had got stuck. I looked for what seemed to be the most solid ground to turn and sunk half a wheel deep in the mud. I then spent the next hour and a half only moving three feet and even deeper in the mud.
Realising that I wasn’t going to do this on my own I tried to call the AA. No signal and I was at the bottom of a bridal path, it wasn’t where I really wanted to be. Off on a trek to the nearest village where true to form I bumped into the village idiot who directed me to the nearest farm where I may have been able to bribe the tractor driver to drag me out. Unfortunately the village idiot’s directions left much to be desired. Go over three river bridges, turn left at the fourth oak tree on your right, you will come to a thatched cottage on the left, don’t bother about that but bear right at the left hand fork. By now I had not only glazed over but Id’e forgotten the first bit. I tried again, “you don’t have a mobile on a different network by any chance?” “No, but when I did I went to the top of that hill over there to get a signal.” “Did it work?” “No” FFS!
I set off in the general direction the idiot suggested, and wonder of wonders about a mile up the road I had a signal, I phoned the AA and arranged a meeting place. The patrolman was a star, it took about an hour to extricate the car by which time it wasn’t worth starting to fish and I wasn’t in the mood anyway. Sixty quid in the tackle shop, twenty five quid to the patrolman, who went well beyond the call of duty and another twenty to get the car steam cleaned and valeted, plus food and fuel I reckon that it cost me about£125 to not wet a line. Home in time to watch the footie and see my team Chelsea get stuffed by Barcelona, happy days!
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