On Saturday, we are going away to Honiton, Devon, to stay on a farm with three lakes and a stretch of the river Otter available for fishing…
This is like a dream for me, the idea of fishing a chalk river, conjuring up images of Izaak Walton and the compleat angler, out of the rat race, out of the 21st century, out of the horror which faces me, finally.
I will probably catch nothing , but it doesn’t really matter.
nothing really matters does it?
Dale 1/2 of ‘m’