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’

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