Fishing trip

I went fishing on Thursday, just the second session of the year so far. And no, Andy, gardening and golf are not the opium of the bourgeoisie. Golf is the weed of the chavs, and the true bourgeoisie favour gardening and fly fishing.

As you can see, its a dirty little river, but someone has to fish it.

As I drove across there, the rape is now in bloom, and the brilliant yellow fields send out the narcotic scent, just like in the Wizard of Oz. But then when you get into the valley where this river is, you can smell the wild garlic.

The weather was excellent, and the height of the river was just right. The nicest thing about the trip was the spring flowers – the wild garlic (which accompanied my lunch), the cowslips, bluebells, daisies and so on.

In the morning I’d been interviewing some people in Tyseley, Birmingham. Pretty much of a contrast, stepping into the car in Tyseley and getting out here. And where is it you say? Well when I started fishing I used to let everyone know when I found a great place to fish. But not now – so let’s just say ’somewhere in Wales’.

And yes, I caught 5 trout – too embarrasingly small to photograph