And we're off

I've never seen my secret Sussex stream looking so good, with almost a dash of chalkstream about it. 

It was too cold and wet for a picnic so the boys went off to a nearby softplay centre. An hour to myself. It's all I needed.

The fishing wasn’t easy. The grip of winter still lingered. But a change of nymph made the difference, when a little trout came to the season-opening party. I hooked another of similar proportion which believed itself a bonefish, zipping here and there, then throwing the hook whilst I fussed with my net.

It's good to be back.