mixed-coloured maggots for bait

3 days ago, we went fishing in Maidenhead, Cookham. A fishing rod, 2 reels of fishing line, hooks, a box of wriggling mixed-coloured maggots, a variety of snacks and a lovely packed (choice of) smoked salmon or chorizo sandwich lunch (provided by Alex’s mum); Thus was 4 fresh-faced youths all set to trek through tall grass down a meandering stream Ray Mears-style in search of the perfect fishing spot. What spurred us on, always in the back of our minds, was the tantalizing thought of fish and chips, of really good fish.

Personally, I was thinking of beer batter too.

Despite the preparations and that anticipation of a grand epic moment, we caught ZILCH.

NADA.

We stopped off first at a fishing gear and materials shop near Odney to pick up some bait. Both Alexes were really into it. Anna was on the phone and I merely hung around, feeling slightly inadequate and touristy with my camera since I was obviously intent on documenting this whole day. Thereafter, we jumped back into the car towards our main destination.

We had a little trouble finding the perfect spot. Alex found it odd that there weren’t any fishes to be seen either (when there usually were loads which you could easily spot in the past). We could hardly coax a shadow of a fish from the waters with our can of Green Giant Sweet Corn. Finally, we settled midway between a group of noisy sunbathing kids and a fellow bloke who was — surprise surprise — also out for a little fishing action.

In summary, we had a great time getting hooks caught on hoodies (that was Mrs Alex) and my new white linen shirt (that was yours truly), catching weed, slurping up a quick-melting 99flake, shouting obscenities at fishes, watching a professional (I say professional because he had all the right gear, a burger, a lit cigarette and a fold-up chair which he was comfortably sat on the whole while) reel in fish after fish — including a large, gorgeous pike. After bringing in that pike, he got awfully chatty with us lot and offered us advice on how to gently remove the hook from the fish and also how to treat the fish with respect before letting it back into the water. He was a good chap and let me take pictures of it all too.

What a beauty don’t you think? It was quite an experience to watch him pull this fierce beauty out of the water and lay it out on the black cushion. Scales glistening, the gills rising up and down with so much force, the eyes glowing under the scorching sun. What a sight! I was blown away by this pike. As it struggled and bucked against the restraining human hands, this pike had so much energy and life, I almost was inspired by it to go do something with myself.

I think I was quite child-like in my excitement but hey, it was my first time going fishing really since I never bothered to go with my dad in the past. One day, I will go proper fishing — on a boat hopefully. Maybe even with real fishermen. Attempt at crabs??? I suppose my closest I ever got to fishing was staying on a oyster farm and watching the man-in-charge bring in the freshly caught oysters. Also, did visit a lobster fishing place in Aus. And hmmm…also did use a net to fish out my goldfish,etc. out of the tank when I cleaned it.

We moved off to a different spot onto a bridge later in the afternoon after spotting quite a lot of fishes in the river below. But no matter what we did, (I resorted to marinating maggots in some sort of fish bait pellets) we pulled back only empty hooks. Good try though. And yea, great smelling hands too. I even got maggot juice squirted onto my face whilst baiting Alex.

Back at Alex’s, Alex’s mum had prepared a dinner of roast vine tomatoes, garlic, red onions, baked potato wedges and harissa lamb. The lamb was so tender and tasty. Alex’s mum — what a woman! She sure knows her food and she fed us well. Despite coming back empty handed, it couldn’t have been any more wonderful and rewarding a day! Fishing. Lamb. Häagen Dazs to end the meal, followed by Gordon Ramsay’s The F Word on telly and a cup of tea.

Sorted.

Talk about getting a Surf ‘n’ Turf, a looking after by a mother figure, a slight tan (and a burn for Mrs Alex) and some extra loving by the ever hankered-after Mr Ramsay.