It has been a long, cold, wet winter, resulting in many hours sat waiting for a bite on my local river and ponds. I had become paranoid, fishing places that I knew held fish, but with no results, yet convinced that I would crack that magic code eventually and catch. For me, with a history of catching fish, when others failed, this was hard to take, every dryish day, with a glimpse of sunshine, seeing me huddled in thermal layers beside Allsmoor Pond, half a mile from home. Usually, unless covered by ice, the surface is dimpled by pimping rudd, or rising bursts of bubbles from feeding carp. Not this year. The surface was like a sheet of glass, with no signs of fish.

I kept going, mixing up my sweet smelling raspberry groundbait, feeding two swims, one in close alongside the decayed lily bed, the other in slightly deeper water 10 metres out. I began to see the merest signs of movement from my fine antenna 4 x 16 pole float with a 7 mm punch of bread, but nothing to strike at. My sessions were short, not more than two hours, but long enough due to no fish and the cold.

This week we had a day of sunshine and I was fishing by 3 pm. I’d fed my groundbait and fished over it. Movement and a half dip of the float! I struck. Nothing. My bread was gone. Back out again on the 10 metre line. The float lay flat. “Something” had taken the punch on the drop. I sat and stared at the float. No sign of movement.  I lifted anyway. Nothing, then solid a foot down. The elastic was slowly pulling from the pole tip. A carp was waking up and began accelerating away from me, while I pulled the pole round to get an angle on it. Ping! In seconds it was gone. Excitement and depression in an instant. The size 14 barbless hook had pulled out, catapulting the rig into the reeds in front of me, causing a massive tangle. Being a tangle master, I cut away the reeds and began unravelling the mess. I had other rigs, but could see the problem and persevered. Once the rig was free, I guessed that these carp were drifting around in the warm surface layer of water, not on the bottom, so reduced the depth by a foot. The float dithered, went under and popped up. I waited. The bread was gone. The temperature was falling fast and I walked home.

Wednesday at Noon is the UK MP’s Questions in Parliament on TV and with fast moving questions and answers between the Prime Minister and the Opposition MP’s, it was a must watch for anyone even slightly interested in Politics, like me. The PM was wriggling like a worm on a hook, as he tried to explain his reasons for a controversial political appointment, that had blown up in his face. I had an eye on the sky outside. It was blue. Time to go fishing again.

The sun was behind the trees as I set set up, plopping groundbait along the edge and along a line into the deeper water. There were no surface signs, but while staring at the float, it disappeared. Missed it! As if to mock me, hundreds of cackling jackdaws, rose as one from the trees, to begin there evening formation flying, swooping and ascending as of one mind, before circling back to their roosts in silence. An impressive sight that I had witnessed each evening, a sign of the approaching dusk. My float was silhouetted against the evening sky, when it tracked very slowly past the end of my pole. A firm lift and another submarine was on, running at speed along the edge of the lilies. It turned and rolled. Raising the pole and removing a section, the heavily scaled flank of a good common carp glinted on the surface. I got the landing net ready, but it dived into a thick mass of leaves and lilies, shedding the hook.

Another anticlimax. I scraped up anothe ball of groundbait and put it out in front of me, laying the rig through the cloud. Only minutes later, the float steadily tracked away and submerged. I was in again. A big lump that ran and rolled, pulling steadily toward the same clump of leaves. Keeping the pole at 8 metres, I kept this big fish on the surface, as it dived and rolled. In this light it looked black, like a big tench, but dismissed this as unlikely, the biggest tench I ever had out of here was golden and only a pound. The next target was a No Fishing post, the sign long gone, but the post ideal for wrapping a line around. The fight continued, like tennis from left to right, stirring up the black mud. Suddenly the fish gave up and I netted it.

We were both exhausted. The hook was just inside the the lip and pushed out with the disgorger. Allowing for the net it was 5 lb 8oz and 20 inches long, an epic battle. It was now too dark for a decent photo, the golden flanks now a dull grey. Flash was too bright. I must get a better camera.

As the pond warms up, the roach, rudd and crucians will beat the carp to the bait, but for the time being I be back soon.