6th and 7th August. I checked the dates on our Environment Agency licences and could see we were approaching a full first year of fishing that would end on the seventeenth of August. We both had, in that year, caught carp of nine-and-a-half pound and ten-and-a-half-pound so we were satisfied that the first year had gone well. Wil was keen to fish Mallard again on Tuesday and I had no problem with that because I knew that the following day he was flying to Turkey with his sister and father, so I could go out again and the choice would be mine alone. I have been keen, for some time now, to learn bomb and pellet fishing so gave it a go at Mallard while Wil stuck to his pink wafter in method feeders. The connectors were found at the bottom of a box for my fishing seat and I soon had the rod rest (and pole sack) attached at the rear of the seat and the extending multi-rod holder at the front. I tried the system of not clipping up that day, catapulting pellets to an area and then casting to

Wil’s choice of venue today, so we ended up at Jonko’s, Tri-Nant, on Mallard Lake, his favourite fishing spot. Fishing is usually a friendly competition between the two of us, one that Wil inevitably wins, but today we decided on a competition between his tried and trusted pink wafters versus my newly found scopex wafters that had been successful only two days previously at Hazel Court. See the video here. On reaching Mallard it was clear that Thursdays were busier than our usualTuesdays. Anglers were spread around the lake and, as usual, nobody seemed to want the peg under the oak tree, where underarm casting only is available, and you have to look at the wagglers stuck in the trees all day. We set up site after three or four trips each from the car, Wil with his two rods on method feeders, pink wafters, and pink haze over the sticky pellets, me with my two rods on method feeders, each with scopex wafters soaked in scopex bait booster, and with scopex haze over the top of my sticky pe

When it comes to my writing, book sales, and clicks for each book from which countries, maybe I’m a bit over the top, but I am retired and, grandchildren taxi driver apart, do have time on my hands. I use Bitly to shorten my website links and anyone who follows me on Twitter, Bluesky, or Facebook will know that I use a separate link for each country for each book, to make it easier for readers from abroad to go to their own particular Amazon site. One of the incredible uses of Bitly is that it gives you statistics for each link and because I have time, I log these at the end of each month. I also get statistics regarding clicks to those links and also the links to my website at www.StephensonHolt.com and where those links have come from. (Google, X, Bluesky, Amazon etc.) Is this interesting, or overkill? Here are two things that my statistics have thrown up recently that I have found interesting. Canada. I was selling books in Canada, links were being said to be from Canada, mainly thr

We had a forced break from coarse fishing to include a week’s holiday in St. Ives, Cornwall, England. With a promise of Wil and I not fishing every day, to make it into a true family holiday Wil and I decided that a mackerel fishing trip would be enough and it would also keep his sister and grandmother happy. We booked, paid, and turned up the next day to what looked like a fairly calm sea where we boarded Yellow Fin, which surprisingly maybe is a blue boat. With plenty of room and what looked like fairly new gear of boat rods, multiplier reels, a hefty lead weight, and feathers we set off around the point to what, in the family, we call stormy beach, where we were told we would then drift back in the direction of the harbour and would make a number of drifts. With the engine cut and rods lowered, a number of things became apparent. One, we were told that rather than jigging, we should raise the rod and wind in as it descended, much like playing a large fish, and that way we would find

I hate my name. Makes me sound like a fish. Sand under my feet, nice and flat, allows a quick splurge of preening oil excreted from the back of my neck to cover my wings. We're off. Don't know why. Like a flock but we don't flock. Ah. I can see now that I'm up here, a dog running towards our drinking area. Humans have befriended and then trained dogs to chase us, they are not allowed on the beach in the summer, but the humans ignore this and laugh at the sport. Gliding now, on a thermal, looking for food with no effort involved. A few scouts have returned to our patch and I intend to join them for a drink. Drinking water comes down into our harbour and mingles between seaweed covered rocks. Not as much water this year but enough for us. Lower beak into the water to fill it and, hup, I throw my head back to let the water go down my throat. Good to have a drink before the tide is fully in, and the drinking water disappears. A hundred eggs ago, this harbour had boats that caught herring i

When I got to the end of "There Must Be Daffodils" with the obligatory happy ending, the epilogue from some years later explained that most of the girls were by then married, except for Ashley's bestie, Camlyn. That was not done intentionally, and wasn't meant to set up a follow-on novel for Cam which fifty percent now exists, with a working title of "Tulips Die Out Of Water." Time has moved on again, the girls still meet up each Friday, but they have moved from their thirties to their forties, and Cam hates her life and her job. The opening paragraph sets the scene, please let me know what you think of it as an opener. "Left behind, still on the shelf, passed my sell-by date, this bloody steam-iron is far too heavy for my skinny arms, and the steam in my face makes me feel even sweatier than the pigging office did today. At least the steam is good for my skin and about the nearest I’ll get to affording a sauna or a spa day. Windows are steaming up though. Excuse the mess. I’d say it’s