So true, Skippy; fishing takes us to places way beyond the experience of the majority, and at times when you might as well be the last person on Earth. What a wonderful way of life angling gives us; even the bad times are good. How many readers here, I wonder, have found themselves in situations almost beyond description? Purely experiential days or hours when even the finest pen could not hope to describe the reality of a particular predicament or joy? A rain-lashed Saturday night with a companion on the Upper Severn, for instance, might make for one hell of an experience, but it was Saturday...and you had the reassurance of a friend. Creep back there on a Monday night in November, alone, with a gale-force wind whomping through the trees and you have an experience, an atmosphere beyond the average punter's comprehension; you could never hope to describe - verbally or in writing - the true nature of that night: it was beyond words. You caught nothing. The wind was high and, actually, very worrying. And it was close to pitch black. Just occasionally, a slither of moon was revealed by the parting clouds...thanks, Skippy; I MUST get over to your neck of the woods again soon - it looks and sounds great.