The same couldn’t be said for Graham, who had been quietly setting out his stall at the bottom end of the lake, far away from the madding crowds. By comparison, he had filled in the far margin of his swim and at some point shortly before dawn, his middle rod had trundled off. After a protracted fight through the dense weed, he had the Queen of the lake safely ensconced in the folds of his net. It was all spawned out but at a weight of 63lb, I don’t think he was overly bothered.
The sweats started and I just wanted to curl up in a ball on the floor and maybe have a cry. Sadly, I also knew that wasn’t going to help matters either