Still had a few. And anyway, I don't think you are officially an angler until you have fallen in!
My most humiliating dip was in Stourport, because a fishing trip had been organised after I was bragging about how I would wipe the floor with a couple of lads at work.
Leaned forward to feed some bait and the tree root I was standing on broke. Much hilarity.
Still it was a hot day and nobody else caught anything either so we repaired to the pub in good fellowship.
Rather stupidly, after swallowing most of the Severn and a couple of pints I agreed to go on the waltzers at the fair with them.
Oddly, because of the centrifugal (?) force when I was sick most if it ended up splattered over the lad next to me.
Somewhat less fellowship.
When I got home I wondered at the fishing gods malice at a young idiot running his mouth. Jeez.
