Great Yarmouth reader Dean Williams recalls a day he wished he’d stayed in bed
SOMETIMES there are days when you just shouldn’t have bothered.
That happened to me a few years back on a match at Barford Lakes when I drew peg 10 on the Match Lake, just about the worst swim I could have got.
With all the conviction of a man going to the gallows, I went to the peg, fished half-heartedly and caught next to nothing.
Salvation arrived in the shape of a top-4 of my mate’s pole that had been pulled off the rest by a carp and could be seen cruising around the lake.
It floated past me with the fish still on, so I thought ‘I’ll have that!’
Skilfully hooking the pole around my cupping kit, I finally grasped the pole, raised it up and played the carp to the surface.
It was a good double, and all went well until at the critical moment the hook pulled and the rig somersaulted over my head, resulting in the float and bulk of shot walloping into my shoulder like a rifle bullet. I did swear a bit.
To round things off I finally got a bite down the edge with 10 minutes of the match to go, only for the hooklink to break for no apparent reason.
Suffice to say I didn’t buy a lottery ticket on the way home.