The continuing adventures of the Fluff Club, episode 71


 “It’s all across this nation,

If it’s all just inadvertent simulation,

A pattern in all mankind,

What’s got the whole world faking?”            -  Mankind,  by Pearl Jam

  Just think of those great sporting rivalries: Ali & Frazier, Borg & McEnroe, England v. Germany, Prost & Senna, the Ashes, etc; such amazing, wonderful, historic clashes! Joining this pantheon of greatness, trial and tribulation, is the sixth John Hardeley Memorial flyfishing competition, fought out at Woodington Lakes every December by the Fluff Club members.


 Sadly, only three Fluff Boys appeared on today’s billing: the Professor, the Admiral, and Whytee. We sadly reflected upon the deaths of two of the JHM stalwarts, and in addition upon the effects this damn pandemic is having on our numbers. Fortunately for Jim and Sian, our hosts, there were four other paying customers as well.

 As per the usual rules, the best brace of trout would win the trophy; the participants have to cease fishing as soon as they catch their second. This year’s variant was only six flies permitted, disclosed in advance, and if a fly is removed it cannot be re-tied; any fly lost to a rampaging tree is just hard cheese! After the bacon butty there would be two 2-hour sessions separated by lunch. So to battle.

 Whytee’s fly selection comprised three #14 Blobs, a BFD variant and two Wossnames. The Professor chose six from our recent tying evenings, while the Admiral was more conservative with his pick.


With the first hour gone the Admiral (Spring ‘lake’) and Whytee (Kingfisher ‘lake’/Biscuit Blob) had both secured their first trout, each around a pound-and-a-half. The Admiral seemed confident, put down his rod, and casually strolled around with his camera. Mind games, perhaps? The Professor had tried Spring and Kingfisher, and now headed off to give the Leat a go. Not to be outdone in the psychological warfare, Whytee also put down the rod and readied a camera, and walked down to the Leat accompanied by Jim.

 
"Angel with Fungus"

Near the far end, the Professor announced he had already caught two … Perch! There followed a lively discussion as to  whether that meant the Professor should cease fishing, but he successfully pleaded that the two fish rule explicitly referred to trout.

 Back on Spring, with the break for lunch just twenty minutes away, the Professor caught a two-pounder, which destroyed the fly by chewing it to shreds. Whytee then caught his second Rainbow, as long as the first but very lean. ‘She who must be obeyed’ had instructed Whytee not to win the huge trophy again, and that was looking unlikely now, particularly when the Admiral reported he had already got his second, a twin of his first, and again from Spring. And so to lunch: a very nice chicken curry and rice, with chutney and poppadoms, which the Fluff Boys enjoyed in the Air-rifle range’s stalls, avoiding the worst of the day’s occasional showers. Assuming the second session might not run the full two hours, we enjoyed a slice of the Victoria sponge for our pudding rather than as a post-presentation tea later. Very nice too, thanks Sian!






 Post prandial, the Professor returned to the fray, while the Admiral practised casting and Whytee headed for the Leat to try to catch a Perch on the fluo-yellow Blob. Indeed, one small stripey did oblige, but dropped off the hook close to the bank. Back at the two clear pools, Jim showed all three FBs a photo of something he dragged out of the margins one day: a Cormorant which had choked to death on a two pound trout, whose tail and body still protruded from its stretched maw! Whytee suggested Jim should post the picture on Instagram, for the nay-sayers who say Cormorants don’t attack anything that is nearly the same size as themselves!

 By 14.00 the Admiral and Whytee had weighed-in and stowed their gear. The Admiral was eight ounces ahead when Whytee left to do family errands, and was wondering how to break the news to his dearly-beloved if the Professor failed in his quest for the second. He didn’t fail, it transpired, and retains the trophy and bragging rights for a second year, top rod with a four-pound-four-ounce total.

 Merry Christmas from the Fluff Club! Do sljedeceg puta.

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