The Curse of the Carp Chasers Strikes Again......

Woodhall Lakes, Blenheim Lane, Bulwell, Nottingham

A change of venue from our planned day out to Blythe Waters because the Carpers in our group found out that there were no floating baits or dog biscuits were allowed at the original venue and you could 'Spod' (I have no clue what this means either) only if it didn't interfere with other anglers.  Apparently this reduces the chances of them catching anything from the surface and so we ended up back at Woodhall Lakes.  I'm not complaining though because it is still a day of fishing but I was looking forward to fishing new water and all the challenges that brings with it.  The Carpers have been busy preparing baits for the last few days and getting their new toys ready for Sunday's adventures.  Richard has his new Carp Cradle and Damian has his new rods, bivvy, rod rests and whatever else he purchased to have a play with, and the pair of them had arranged to fish through the night from 3pm(ish) Saturday, sleeping bank-side and having a little camp out.  I'm not sure if they had a little sing-song around the camp-fire or just concentrated on the fishing though, but a photograph of Damian holding the 15lb Carp he caught does suggest there was a fair amount of alcohol consumed.  Luke and myself joined them on Sunday morning, though as usual I turned up late.

The photographic evidence

I have been busy getting a few bits and bats for myself and have managed to get the bottom half of my Dad's old fishing umbrella sorted with a new storm stick that I bought from Angling Direct (Halesowen).  The original part had what looked like an arrowhead on it and it looked like an old fashioned spear.  It was used by one of the kids for the Roman soldier in a school nativity play, painted brown and never returned to us, so I have had to cobble together a 50+ year old brolly with a new section.  I should be okay if it rains and we only have a very light breeze, anything other than that could lead to trouble, in fact I'm not too confident that it will stay together if a squirrel farts anywhere close to it.  However, it is the only thing of my Dad's old fishing gear I have left so I will find a way of making it work.  It kind of fits in with the rest of my gear though now, a mixture of old, new and donated.  I could find myself becoming a sponsored angler at this rate, but only if Oxfam, Dr. Barnado's, Help the Aged or any other charitable organisation sponsor anglers.

I didn't feel the love for fishing at the start of the session and it showed with my clumsy approach to everything.  I took forever to set up the peg, setting up the rod took another age and if anyone had offered me a chance to go home I would have snapped their hand off. My saveloy-esque fingers could not function at the same speed as my mind and I had a severe case of the 'dropsies', which did nothing to improve my general demeanour or attitude.  And then the rain came......Now I wasn't phased at all by this and I soon had the umbrella up over my new fishing chair that I got from Emma for Father's Day but Dad's old umbrella is over 50 years old and looks like it as well.  While the others were all safely ensconced under their fancy new nylon shelters with all of their gear nice and dry, my old canvas umbrella just about covered my chair.  The rainwater filled up my clip on containers on the side of my seat box which soon began to sag dramatically, it got into my maggot box, it dripped down the back of my neck, my legs were soaked and to top it all off it even got into my cup of coffee that I had poured myself pre-downpour.  I haven't felt so miserable for ages, I was tired, I had a temperature and I was hungry.  This was going to be a long, long day.

The rain soon passed and Richard came to my rescue with a surprise breakfast he rustled up on his camping stove and I was presented with an ex-military mess tin with bacon, sausages and a hash brown cooked to perfection.  It was the best breakfast I have ever had and I will be eternally grateful to Richard for it.  The hash brown, bacon and sausage worked their magic on me and I suddenly felt a bit more alive and ready to face the day.  I finished setting up my rod with a crystal waggler with two No 6 shot to lock the float in place and then 3 x No 8 shot spaced out in the "shirt button" pattern down to a Size 16 Snap Lock Swivel and finished off with a size 14 hook.  The weight would pull almost all of the float under the water leaving just the tip above the surface.  I just needed to sort the depth out now and move the float up or down accordingly to have the correct amount of line below the float to fish an inch or two off the bottom. (How technical was that ?)

My peg and those damn reeds

The peg that I was fishing from was next to a large bush, with two groups of reeds in front of me and trees behind me, the water was about 2 to 3 feet deep in the shallows, dropping to around 6 feet, about 10 to 15 metres out.  I wanted to hit this drop off as it would improve my chances of larger fish, rather than in the margins where the newly hatched fry would be hiding from the predators and my first cast produced almost instant results as I beat my personal best with an 8oz Perch.  I had followed the "feed little and often" method and the first hour or so saw a mixed bag of Roach and Perch, but I had tempted the much smaller Roach out of their hidey holes and a few were quickly hooked as they took advantage of the free feed of maggots.  I love catching Roach, but the Perch do my swede in because they nearly always take the hook right down their gullets and it can be a nightmare to unhook them, so I decided to fish a little further out and started to feed up those areas to tempt the fish into the swim.

Now it may sound like an idyllic day spent with great company, relaxing bank-side and doing a spot of fishing, but the truth is that it was about as frustrating as it gets.  The reeds at the front were a nightmare and I got the line caught in them more times than I care to remember, losing at least three hooks to them, the bush to the side limited casting to the right-hand side of the swim, the tree behind me meant that casting any sort of distance was problematic and when I did manage to get a decent cast, I twice had the waggler ripped off the plastic plug on the line and lost two of my best floats.  To make sure I was really frustrated, the swim was full of weed with very few spaces where I could hit the lake bottom so I needed to be accurate with the casting.  The language was foul to say the least and it was a good job that young Rhys was at the furthest peg from me or he would have learnt a few Anglo-Saxon phrases he had never heard before.

Damian thought it would add to my frustration when he appeared on my peg, giggling like a schoolkid with his landing net in his hand.  I thought he had caught something and was bringing it to show me, so imagine my surprise when he deposited a dead duckling at my feet and then ran off in fits.  Thanks for that !!!.....Apparently it had floated into Rhys's swim and he had asked an adult to help him move it, unfortunately he got Damian.  I must admit that when I had scooped it up into my landing net, my first thoughts were to see if Luke's car was locked and if not, place the object in the spare wheel well and cover it up, but considering he has just had a new baby a month ago I felt that maybe that wasn't the best idea.  Instead I dropped it into a ditch behind Damian's peg and left it where a fox or cat would find it.  As the day wore on and I had my issues with casting sorted I settled down into things and managed to land a total of 40 fish including my first Tench and Rudd, so I was very happy with that.

Due to the marathon overnight fishing session Richard and Damian left just after 3pm, leaving myself, Luke and Rhys to carry on fishing and I moved into Richard's old peg and was soon joined by Rhys who fished next to me for the last few hours and didn't bring his jinx with him this time....The day had started off miserably with the overcast grey skies and the rain, but ended in glorious sunshine with azure blue skies, the kind of day when you're glad to be out and about.

See you on the bank-side......

A Week is Such a Long Time....

With no fishing until Sunday's trip to Blythe Waters Fisheries, Knowle, Solihull, it feels like such a long week.  Last week I managed to go every other day, but because of work I can't get out bankside this week so I have cleaned my kit instead and got everything ready for the PIDS Fishing Club day out.  Father's Day was good for me and I am now the proud owner of a fishing chair from Emma and Jim and a landing net from Jake and Soph, both of which have been added to my kit and they will both get used on Sunday.  Of course others have been busy making new purchases and Damian is now the proud owner of not one, but TWO new reels and TWO new rods and a bivvy (basically a tent  that Carp anglers use to sleep in on the bankside) plus other assorted items that total a considerable amount of money, but according to him he doesn't have the bug again...Okay, whatever you say...Hahahahaha

On the depression front I had a little bit of a blip this week and allowed things to get to me a lot more than I should have.  It didn't help that I couldn't pick my prescription for Citalopram up and had to miss a few days medication.  I'm not sure how they work but they seem to stop me from over thinking everything so I don't wind myself up into a state and make rash decisions that I could later regret.  The situation at work has been getting to me a bit, especially on Monday because that was the second day running without my little friends to help me get through.  I have now managed to pick up my prescription and I am back on track with things, but the difference in moods is alarming.  On the tablets I can let any problems or anxiety wash over me and I can cope with them with ease, without them I spiral into a dark place where I over think everything, convince myself that the world is against me and upset myself.  I guess the key is getting myself a bit more organised with regards ordering repeat prescriptions and then picking them up because this is the second time I have experienced this.

There have been several things that I have learnt about depression though, things which may help others but this list that I found on the Huffington Post, written by Hannah Sentenac, pretty much says it all really.  I have changed the content slightly to suit my situation and feelings, but it has helped me no end.

1. There is always hope.
If you'd suggested this to me in my darkest moments, you could have just as easily told me that Toy Story is a true story or pigs are taking pilot exams. Hopelessness is a major symptom of depression, which makes it kind of difficult to see the light at the end of the proverbial tunnel. But the light is always there.

2. I can't expect to feel good all the time.
Once I found good feelings again after battling depression, it felt like failure to fall back into any unhappiness or self doubt  moments. But being human comes with a roller coaster of emotions. Even the happiest people have bad days.


3. People who haven't suffered from depression have a tough time understanding it.
This isn't a criticism or a failing on their part, and it doesn't mean they don't love you. It's just difficult to understand something you haven't been through. But I couldn't rightfully expect that they'd know how I felt -- just like I can't expect to know exactly how a cancer patient feels, or how someone who lost their child feels. All I can offer is empathy and compassion, and that's all I can ever expect from anyone else.

4. Self-compassion is key.
I was my own worst enemy, always attacking myself for perceived flaws or failings. I could offer compassion to other people but never to myself and I need to cultivate a sense of self-compassion.

5. Lots of other people are fighting similar battles.
When I opened up to people about my struggles, I was constantly amazed at how many shared them, particularly people who seemed happy and well-adjusted. We live in a society where image is everything, people are experts at putting on a happy face, but there's lots of pain simmering beneath the surface for plenty of people.

6. Social media can exacerbate a sense of alienation.
When I was feeling low and bereft of all hope and human connection, looking at pictures of other people partying and having fun was maybe not the best idea. If you have low self-esteem (as almost anyone with depression does), seeing other people enjoying life and living a 'normal' life tend to perpetuate these feelings. They have done lots of research that demonstrates Facebook makes us unhappy. It stunts our real-life social interaction, it makes us envious of others (instead of grateful for what we've got), and so on.

7. Spending too much time alone is a bad idea.
I desperately wanted to remove myself from civilized society and frequently did, but of course, hiding away alienated me from exactly what I needed most, the company and support of friends and loved ones.

8. There is no final destination.
Life is a journey, and happiness stems from the journey itself. It's about finding joy in the here and now, in this very instant. I'll have low moments again, undoubtedly, but there's happiness to be found even in the darkest hours, and that's something I never came to grips with before.

 5. There's no quick fix.
Antidepressants can help you feel better almost immediately and that can be a hugely helpful option if you're in the depths of despair, but long term healing takes work. Consistent working towards getting better is the key. What that work entails depends on the person, but no matter what's involved, it's worth the investment.

4. I should always ask for help when I need it.
Don't be afraid to ask for help, whether it is just a chat or phone call with a friend, a chat with your GP, even calling The Samaritans someone is always there for you and willing to lend a helping hand.

3. My brain can change.
Our brains are designed to be habitual, so neural pathways form from our negative thought patterns, and this, in turn, can have seriously deleterious effects on us hence the negative effects of stress on our bodies. Creating new pathways is challenging and time consuming, but doable. For me, it's been about forming positive new habits and breaking the old, bad ones. Learning to correct my distorted thinking patterns and positively rewire my mind.

2. Everyone's journey is different.
I can't stress this enough, it doesn't mean anyone else who's suffered from depression will share the same conclusions, and that's okay. There are billions of perspectives in this world, and each is equally valid. For some people, medication is crucial. For others, long term psychotherapy might be the answer. Whatever works. I'm not suggesting that my path is best for anyone but me. But I am suggesting that everyone has a path to healing and the most important thing is to keep after it and not to give up.

1. I can make it out.
While the support and assistance of others are hugely beneficial, no one can walk the path to recovery for me. Other people such as doctors, therapists, family members and friends could lend a hand, but that first step (and second and third) had to be my own. Self-empowerment leads to lasting change. And lasting change is possible.

Well this post has been a bit different to the others, but hopefully it will help anyone going through a similar situation...

See you on the bankside....

If it could go wrong, it did go wrong....

Well Saturday's session at Woodhall Lakes was an experience I won't forget in a hurry.  Like the title says if it could go wrong, it did go wrong, well the first hour or so anyway, but things soon settled down and I was able to land a nice haul of decent sized Roach with an odd Perch thrown in for good measure.  There was some doubt about whether I was going to go because I really do have to sort my garden out because there is a very real possibility that I could lose one of the the younger Grandchildren, Charlie or Edith in the long grass.  The eldest, Seb, would be okay but only for a week or so before he too could be lost in the grass.  The plan was to get out there and blitz the lawn; I say lawn but the reality is weed filled green patch, and then, if I had the inclination, dig a border along the path and plant some of those cheap flowers you can get from one of the big DIY sheds.  Thankfully it rained and so that put paid to that idea and I am eternally grateful.

Damian had suggested going up to Woodhall Lakes again on Friday when we had been working together but I told him of the plans with the garden and said that if I could get things sorted in the morning I'd be up for a few hours lakeside.  However, the early morning rain put paid to any idea of cutting the grass (thankfully) and so I had a few little jobs around the house to do but I was then free for a bit of fishing.  However, I broke my two pairs of specs one by sitting on them and the other by trying to superglue the arm back on and managing to get glue all over the lense.  The arm is stuck on well enough but I can't see anything out of that particular side. In hindsight, this was just the start of the run of bad luck I was to go through for the remainder of the day but I soon resolved the problem by nipping down to Poundstrtetcher in Oldbury and buying two pairs of those off the shelf reading glasses.  I got two pairs for £1.98, so that was a bargain and it meant I could now go fishing and see what I was doing instead of being like Mr Magoo on the bankside.

I left home at 3.15pm and shot along the M42 and M1, reaching the lake about 4.30pm.  Damian was already there setting up his second Carp line and told me that we had to be off site by mid-night, so it looked likely that I was to experience my first taste of fishing in the dark.  I'd never been able to work out how people fished in the dark, well not coarse fish anyway, Carpers have bite alarms which sound when a fish bites so that made sense, but seeing a float in the dark would be nigh on impossible.  Anyway, that was at least 6 hours away, it was time to get serious on the bankside and so I set about getting my new 5mtr telescopic whip out that I had bought second hand from a contractor at work.  I had also bought a seat box and landing net off him as well and couldn't wait to get my new second hand purchases out and in use.  The kit I bought included loads of floats, reels, hooks, weights and other assorted things which I am still trying to work out, and several already made up whip rigs.  I set the whip up, placed my seat box and settled down to do some damage to the shoals of fish just waiting for my bait.

It has taken me a while to learn how to fish using a rod but now I feel confident with my technique to be able to cope well enough with any fish I catch with the exception of something big, I think I may panic a bit if I hooked anything big.  I had watched a video on YouTube of someone fishing with a whip and he was casting out with ease and making it look so easy, so I tried to emulate his technique.  With my first cast I managed to hook myself in the shoulder, not the best start, with my second cast I felt the wind of the float and hook as it whistled within a a fraction of a millimetre of my ear, my third cast caught a reed stem just on the edge of the bank.  Three casts and the bloody hook was still dry, but my next cast went without a hitch and landed in the water but it was miles from the area I had been pre-baiting as I got ready.

I thought that maybe if I tried using the whip as a pole first and feeding the rod out to where I wanted it would be my best option and the bloke in the video I watched can go and keep his technique.  I got the hook, float and line exactly where I wanted it and there was already some interest from the fish as the float moved around, sank a little and came back to the original position.  I waited patiently but there was no more interest so bought the line back in only to discover there was no maggot on the hook, the fish had managed to get the bait for free.  No worries though, I just hooked anther maggot and placed the hook back where it had been and within seconds the float disappeared.  It was at this point I realised how different it is fishing with a pole or whip, there is no reel and so it is a case of lifting the tip of the rod and feeding the pole back at the same time.  It was a lot harder than I thought to do both things, but by not getting myself into a lather, I managed to get everything sorted and soon had the Perch I had hooked on the bank.  Damian had been watching me as I struggled and when I had finished getting myself and the fish sorted he informed me that my line was way too long and I could have shortened it by at least 3/4's of what it was.  Overall I wasn't impressed with fishing this way and after one fish decided to get my trusty waggler and rod out of the van and fish how I knew.

I have started to set my rod up out the back of the van because of the nice flat surface available, it is out of the wind and if I drop anything it is usually quite easy to find, so it was a mixture of relief and annoyance when I tried opening my split shot container and hundreds of little No. 8 shot cascaded over the wooden floor of the van.  There would have been no way of finding any of them at the peg, but at least in the back of the van I could see the majority of them and picked them up with no problem.  I set myself up and made my way back to the peg to plumb the depths with my newly purchased weight where you thread the hook through the eye and then fix the point into a strip of cork at the bottom.  You then cast out and adjust the floats position on the line accordingly until just the top of the waggler is visible and then remove the plumb weight from the hook.  You are then set up for fishing, simple really.

Since starting to fish, I have very much been a margins fisher, catching regularly from the edges of the lake around the margins where a lot of the smaller fish hide from the predatory species.  They have also worked out there is a lot of free food when anglers dump any unused bait into the edges when they pack up, however, today I wanted to be a bit more daring and fish further out in more open water.  I cast out and waited for the splash of the weight on the water but it did not happen, there was no splash.  Confused I began to look for the line to see where it had snagged, it had to be caught up on something, but where was a mystery. I followed the line upwards from the tip of the rod only to see it disappear into the  canopy of the tree I was fishing under.  The lowest branches must have been between 15 and 20 feet directly above me, and there swinging amongst the branches I could make out the unmistakable bell shape of my weight, my problem now was how do I retrieve the said weight.  I thought about reeling the line in but I didn't know if it had wrapped itself around the branch, I couldn't just yank the rod and line for the same reason, there was no way I could climb the tree and I wasn't going to cut the line and leave the weight, float, swivel, shot and hook up there for the squirrels.  The laughter from the next peg indicated that Damian had seen what had happened, and so I had to do something, anything.

I decided that maybe the best option would be to flick the end of the rod and hope that it would indicate whether the line had wrapped itself around the branch it was hanging from.  The wave caused by the flick on the line would stop at the branch, or it would continue over the branch and move the weight so I could then confirm it hadn't.  I flicked the rod and watched in horror as the weight came plummeting down towards me.  In a fraction of a second I had to move my head or be hit right between the eyes by the weight.  The laughter continued from Damian's peg but at least I had a free line.

With depression you can easily fall into the depths of despair when faced with small minor problems like this, but if you notice how people who always look on the bright side deal with challenges, even minor ones, like not being able to find a parking space, and then think about how you would react in the same situation, you can develop strategies to cope. Even if you have to pretend, try to adopt their optimism and persistence in the face of difficulty. Also surround yourself with people you love and trust.  These people don’t have to be able to fix you; they just need to be good listeners and laugh along with you and not at you in situations like this. You may have retreated from your most treasured relationships and friendships, but they can get you through this tough time, just as Damian, Luke and Richard do when we're out fishing.  They don't allow me to take myself so seriously and laugh at my mistakes and encourage me to do the same, and it works, it really does.

After the line in the tree episode I thought my run of misfortune would have come to an end, but I managed to hook myself on the shoulder again, hooked my finger countless times when trying to put a maggot on the line and made the schoolboy error of not having my landing net ready before starting to fish.  I finally settled myself down and began a great session that resulted in 32 fish being caught in open water rather than on the margins.  The fish were of a much better quality than I had been catching as well with several being over 8 inches in length rather than the 3 to 4 inch types I usually catch.  I was casting and reeling in one movement at times after I had fed the swim little and often as described in an article in the Angler's Mail.  The fish were waiting for the bait to fall and were taking it on the drop.

Concentrating hard and trying not to hook my finger

For the next few hours I sat happily fishing to my hearts content with my new second hand keep net out ready to accept the fish I caught, I had good company and lovely weather, life doesn't get much better than this.  The evening passed and I was kept very busy with my fishing, forgetting about all the trials and tribulations of my normal life and I think it would be fair to say that I was as happy as I have been for years.  The only time I was a little upset was when Damian told me what he was using as bait, hemp and chilli flavoured boillies.  Now any normal person would have left it at that, but not me, oh no.  I put some on my hook and cast out to see if there were any fish who fancied trying a bit.  As we waited for a bite I noticed that the oily residue was on my fingers and the smell was rather appealing.  It was at this time that any sane person would have cleaned their hands, but not me.  I licked my fingers instead.  At first it tasted spicy, no real taste as such just a warmth on my tongue, but then it kicked in and I was coughing and spluttering wishing I could scrape the first layer from my tongue.  It was an appalling taste combined with a very hot chilli sensation.  Now I love spicy food, I love a Vindaloo or Madras curry, I can even eat Jalapenos raw and the seeds, but this was something else...It was a fierce heat and I wished to whoever that I hadn't done it.  Of course Damian was his usual helpful self and could just stand there laughing as I tried to relieve myself of the taste.

Just as the light began to fade we were visited by Amy and Evie, and my task was set to catch a pink fish for little Evie after she had seen the fish I had in my keepnet.  The pink fish was a compromise really, because at first she wanted a mermaid but not just any mermaid, it had to be Ariel from Disney's 'Little Mermaid', but she soon changed her mind and settled on a pink fish.  I caught two while she was there and the disappointment in her voice when they weren't pink would have made even the hardest man in the World cry.  However, despite not being able to catch her one, I have ordered one from my son's fiancée and mother of my grandson Charlie, who has her own business for soft furnishings and toys so I can keep my promise to Evie now. (Thank you so much Sophie Best)

My haul from Saturday night

With the fading light I was unable to see beyond the end of my nose and had gone back to hooking my finger on a regular basis.  Damian did let me use his head torch but even though I wasn't hooking my finger anymore, I was struggling to see the float in the water.  Damian was trying for Carp and so I said I would pack up and watch him for a while, but because he didn't want to leave with a dry net he said he'd take over on my float rod for a while and got himself 8 decent Roach and Perch within a few minutes of fishing.  Meanwhile I had started packing my gear but left the landing net and other bits Damian needed to fish and it was about now that my decision to stop when I did was confirmed.  As I went to land a fish for Damian with the net, I tripped on a tree root and nearly went on a header into the lake.  Of course this bought howls of laughter from Damian who told me that if I had gone in he would have been unable to help me because he would have been rolling around on the floor and most likely would have wet himself.  It's so nice to have a mate you can rely and count upon.

That kind of did it for me and I was ready to leave, Damian still held out hope for a last minute catch but the Carp were not having any of it and so he packed up as well and we left at 11.30pm.  The darkest I had ever fished, the latest I had ever fished and the furthest out that I have ever fished.  A day of firsts for me then....

Nearly Up To Date Now.....

This week has been a great week for me apart from one incident at work but that's all I feel, want and am prepared to say about it.  I had my appraisal though and apart from two categories I achieved Above Average but I have to agree with the assessment and reasons why I didn't get higher marks on the two categories where I didn't get the Above rating.  What was discussed were the improvements in my demeanour, attitude and outlook recently and how I am coping with the depression so I was dead pleased with that.  It was agreed that my personal objectives were to start believing in myself, my abilities and what I have to offer the company.  I'm glad that other people are noticing the changes I am going through, because I don't think that anyone can really see themselves how others see them.  While lots of people say they do not to care what others think, we are, at the end of the day, creatures who want and need to fit into a social environment both privately and within the workplace. Humans are psychologically suited to interdependence. Social anxiety is really just a self imposed response to the threat of exclusion; feeling that we're not accepted by a group leaves us agitated and depressed.  The ability to work out how people see us is what enables us to connect to others and to enjoy the deep satisfaction that comes with those ties. We can't be a fly on the wall as people pick us apart after meeting us so we are left to rely on the accuracy of what psychologists call our "metaperceptions"—the ideas we have about others' ideas about us.

The bottom line: It comes down to what you think about yourself.

This is an area where I greatly need to improve and enable myself to move forward and get away from the negative imagery I have created for myself over the years.

My new hobby has enabled me to start this process and while it is still early days, I have found myself being less and less bothered about other people's opinions of me.  They are just opinions and not facts, so while one person may dislike me for one reason another person may find that particular trait in my character appealing.  There are almost certainly going to be people who I meet and have contact with who don't particularly like me, I know I have a number of people who I would rather not spend any amount of time with on my list, but for whatever reason that isn't their problem, it is mine.  By the same token it is the problem of anyone who dislikes me and not mine and I am not prepared to waste any more time or energy worrying about it.  For years I have worried and stressed about people not liking me and used humour to shield myself from the fact, going through life thinking that if I can make someone laugh then they will like me.  This goes way back to when my Dad used to say "Who's thick ?" and I would jump up shouting "I am, I am" because it made him laugh, therefore I thought he liked me.  I very quickly developed the role of joker so others would follow suit and like me for my humour.  I'm never going to stop being a joker, but I think from now on it will be for different reasons.

Now this week has also been a great week for the new hobby and I have managed to get out by the lakes on no less than three occasions.  First was on Sunday when I made my way over to the Clent Hills and fished the top pool at Dayhouse Farm Fisheries.  I went on my own, the first session of solo fishing since the infamous day at West Smethwick Park and Smethwick canal when I registered a big old zero.  I needed to do this to prove to myself that it was because I had gone with a blasé attitude and expected to catch something, had gone at things like a bull at a gate and not prepared correctly.  This time I went with a plan and knew that I should have prepared correctly, spent time finding depths, pre-feeding the swim and setting up correctly.  I had been watching online videos on YouTube and had taken on-board the info I gleaned from them and acted accordingly when I reached the lakeside.

The water was very muddy with lots and lots of sediment which made it impossible to see any more than a  few inches below the surface, unfortunately I hadn't watched that bloody video so was buggered from the start but undeterred I ploughed on and set up a waggler float, fed up the margins of the swim on either side of the peg and fired about 5 or 6 maggots into open water about 10 to 15 metres out.  I had decided to give the new rod and reel that I had bought in Llandudno earlier in the week when I had been sent there by work, and despite a slow start I settled down underneath an oak tree growing right on the bank's edge and enjoyed the solitude.  After about an hour of no bites or even remote interest from our fishy friends I began to think that maybe I was due to another session where I had to admit to 'dry-netting', but suddenly the float dropped in the water.  I waited and it went under the surface again but came straight up again, there was something showing an interest so I threw 3 or 4 maggots around the float and sure enough it disappeared again.  I struck the line and was rewarded with a small roach.  I had done it, I had proved to myself that I COULD fish solo, I had such a huge smile on my face.  This was quickly followed up by a much bigger fish that put up a much better fight and I had to concentrate on playing the fish or risk losing it and maybe my hook if the line snapped.  The fish came to the surface and I saw how much bigger this was than the previous one.  It was about 9 or 10 inches long and had a thick body and was putting up a bit of a fight.  I lost my balance and slipped on the bank but just about managed to stop myself from going in but also held onto the rod which took some doing.  I got my landing net out and scooped the fish into the net so I could safely unhook it on my funky new Unhooking Mat.  I first thought that I had got myself a big Roach which would have blown my Personal Best away and the scales showed that I had a fish of 1lb 6oz.  I was ecstatic, my previous best was 6oz, this was a whole pound heavier. I photographed it and posted straight onto facebook fom the bankside.  I had come to the fishery early in the afternoon when the sun was out and it was warm but now the rain-clouds were gathering to the north above Dudley and the temperature had dropped to a point where it was starting to get uncomfortable being dressed in just shorts and a t-shirt, but undeterred I carried on until the owner came down to tell me it was 20.45 and he was locking up in 15 minutes.  I managed one last cast and got myself another new species, a Silver Bream weighing about 4oz.  When I arrived home I looked on facebook and discovered that my Roach was not a Roach, it was an Ide / Orfe.  It was great that I had another species off the list, but the fact that my Roach PB remained at 6oz took a little (not all though) of the shine off it.

My IDE / Orfe

On Monday I had to drive to Derby for training on a new contract with the Project Delivery Lead, Luke Smith and a few others.  Damian wasn't there but he did call me to see if I could slope off and go fishing up at Woodhall Lakes, Bulwell with him.  I said that as much as I would love to, I wasn't going to be able to get away because I had to go to a store later with Luke and run through the procedures.  Damian went off in an attempt to break his PB for a Carp which had been stuck on 10lbs for a while.  He was determined to catch something, especially after drawing a blank a few weeks before.  After finishing the job and getting home I was delighted to see posted on our Fishing Club page, that he had indeed managed to beat his PB with a 16lb Carp.

Damian strikes a catalogue model pose with his prized catch.

The next day I had a call off Damian telling me about his catch and that he fancied going back that day for a bit more fishing.  He had also heard that there was a job that evening in Nottingham at a well known High Street store that sells natural beauty products.  He said that he was going to try and get put onto the job and would be off to Woodhall later that afternoon.  After about 30 minutes he called again to say that they had agreed to send him and so was I up for a bit of fishing. I was off like a shot and arrived at the lake about 11.30am.  This meant we now had until 4.30pm at the latest before we had to pack up and leave for the job so we set upand soon had our hooks out there.  Damian was after another Carp, while I was content just fishing the margins and reed beds for 'tiddlers.  The fact that made our bonus fishing session even sweeter was that we knew Luke, in his role as Project Manager of tonight's job, was stuck behind his desk while we were playing.  Of course we could not leave such an opportunity to wind him up alone and so we regularly updated him on how things were going.  I managed to beat my Roach PB at last and hooked a nice 8oz specimen and several other decent fish including a 1lb Common, but time beat us and we had to leave after having 6 hours in the sunshine.

We were sent back to Nottingham the next night and things went slightly awry with the job and we didn't finish until very late so by the time I got home it was well past midnight.  With no job scheduled for the Thursday and after having a late finish the night before I saw that an opportunity had presented itself for a bit of fishing.  Could I really get away with a day spent fishing and being paid for the pleasure ?...It was too good to be true really but I decided to see if I could.  I headed off to Dayhouse Fisheries for the day and arrived there about 11.15am and decided to try the bottom pool this time which was a lot clearer than the top pool which I fished on Sunday.  I set up next to the car park and picked a peg right in the corner so I had several swims to concentrate on and began feding them up with the little and often method I had read about in the fishing journals.  After about 2 hours of fishing in the glorious Worcestershine sunshine I had an email come through from work about a meeting I was required for in about an hours time.  I was in a bit of a sticky situation now and had to call up to see what it was about only to be told that it was my yearly appraisal and it had to be done today.  "Okay" I said "I'll be there about 5ish though"  I had to pack everything away but I was determined to make it back to the lake afterwards so just chucked all my gear in the van and headed to Derby.  Now I'm not accusing anyone of being a git, but when I walked into the office I was greeted by the smiling face of Luke. It would appear thatthe opportunity to wind me up had arose and he took it with both hands....The horrible git.  Once the meeting was over I was back on the A38 heading south in the hope of getting back in time to get a few hours fishing in before the gates closed at 9pm.  I must have broken a few speed limits because I was back on the bank by 7.45pm and finished off the day with a few new species, namely Gudgeon, Bream and Skimmers.

That gets me up to date with my fishing trips and on each time I am learning something new about myself which is helping me deal with the depression.  I have still got a long way to go before I can really say that I am over it, but with time I know I will get there and I look forward to even more fishing adventures along the way.  As I am coming to the end of this particular entry there are plans afoot to go over to Woodhall again later this afternoon and get a few hours in as the sun sets just to see what we can catch when the feeding frenzy begins.  I have also decided to follow the advice of Mark Woodward and see if this blog would be of interest to others and I am writing to the Angler's Mail to see if they could give it a mention sometime....

Becoming Obsessed....

Following on from the Bank Holiday adventure I didn't manage to get out lakeside again until the 7th June, nearly two weeks without any fishing, so when Damian suggested we tried a place near him in Nottingham I jumped at the chance and we went over to Woodhall Lakes at Bulwell.  He had been bitten by the bug again and had come out of a self imposed retirement from fishing and was becoming borderline psychotic about beating his personal best catch for a carp.  The weird thing was I could understand how he was feeling because fishing had become the main thing I thought about as I drove around the country for work.  My thoughts had now become filled with how should I set up my waggler floats for the best results, should I invest in a pole, what will my next purchase be and daydreams about a day sat bankside just relaxing.  It was then that I realised just how important fishing had become to me, it was providing me with a release from the depressive feelings that have plagued me for years, it removed the disabling self pity and it occupied my mind with thoughts that were far more positive than they had been for a long time.

An important thing to accept is that there are usually no instant solutions to problems that life throws at us from time to time. Solving these problems involves time, energy and work, and when you are feeling depressed, you lose the will to tackle them , you lose your focus and you lose motivation for almost everything and there is no energy or motivation to work, look after yourself mentally or physically, personal hygiene becomes a chore and some weekends I would go all through without washing or brushing my teeth until Monday morning. It was an easy trap to fall into and although I disgusted myself by behaving this way, I just did not have the energy to change it.  However, when you have a purpose and something that interests you, the motivation returns and you just do them as a matter of course, it starts to get back to being part of what you do each morning.  This is why, if you are able to take an active part in your something you enjoy, it will help your situation.

I was up very early and got ready, I was looking forward to doing a bit of fishing and spending some time with someone who has become the type of friend you regard more as family.  We squabble, take the piss out of each other, play pranks on each other and developed a really strong bond.  He may be a right twat sometimes but I do love him to bits and would do anything for him, Amy (his long suffering partner) and little Evie (his stunning 2 year old daughter).  As usual with Damian, he changed his mind at the last minute about where we were going to fish, he had wanted to go to some carp lake over by Holme Pierrepont but now he was on about Woodhall Lakes, so I set off for the new venue.  By the time I arrived Damian was already setting up so I found my peg and got ready.  It was a bit cold in the shade and I was glad when I heard him moaning about being freezing because he put on his jogging bottoms and hid his knee length jeans (which made him look decidedly camp) and pale white calves.

He was on a mission to catch a big carp and had spent a fortune on bait which absolutely stunk so I was half expecting to get some thrown at me or sneakily dripped down the back of my neck.  Instead he was focussed and concentrating on getting his big fish and was filled with a determination to beat his personal best.  I just wanted to catch fish, any fish, big or small, I didn't care.  I got everything ready and settled down at my peg and made my first cast with my new float rod that I had bought the day previously.  My float had hardly had time to settle before I was reeling in my first of the day, a small perch, who must have been hiding in the reeds to the right of my peg.  He had the bait 'on the drop' as anglers say and had greedily swallowed the hook right down his gullet which meant I was going to have to use the disgorger to free him.  This is one part of fishing that I don't like because I hate having to push the disgorger down their throats and if it takes too long there is a danger of the fish dying.  This time it was a relatively stress free unhooking, but there was worse to come.

The lake we were at was crystal clear and big carp could be seen sunning themselves just under the surface or patrolling the weeds in packs.  There must have been 25 to start with and as the day went on, but more came down to our part of the lake and lay on top of the weed beds about 25 to 30 yards from Damian's peg.  To say he was excited would be a bit of an understatement and he was casting his new stinky bait out right in front of them but they were having none of it.  They would come over, nudge the bait with their mouths but then swim away, once or twice they would suck the bait in but spit it out straight away or they would just ignore it.  As the hours passed and with no fish taking any of his bait, you could see the frustration building in Damian.  He would sit down for a while, then be stood up, then off to his van for something, then sitting back down, then up again but it was all to no avail, the fish weren't playing by the rules.

Damian (looking less camp) watching the carp play with his bait

In the meantime I was happily sat there fishing the margins and catching fairly regularly even though it would have taken four of my catch to make a fish finger.  This fact had not gone unnoticed by others and I was subjected to abuse from the Frustrated One about my eagerness to catch 'sticklebacks'.  I refused to bite (just like the carp he was after) and happily continued with my fishing.

My new rod was performing well and I was landing loads of small perch and roach but then disaster struck when I cast my line out and suddenly the rod felt a lot lighter and when I looked out at the water, there floating about was the top half of my new rod.  I thought Damian hadn't seen what had happened but of course he had and the laughter coming from my left had been the give away that he had.  I reeled the line in and the top section was retrieved but it was far worse than just the end of the rod coming out of it's socket; the bloody rod had snapped.  I was gutted to say the least, but thankfully I still had my big 12' Carp rod that Luke Smith had given me so wasted no time in getting that set up and I was back fishing.

As I mentioned earlier, I hate it when the fish swallow the hook because then you have to go through the drama of shoving a piece of plastic down the fishes throat to free the hook and my next little Perch had taken the bait and hook deep inside his throat.  I got the yellow disgorger, threaded the line down the slot on the end and pushed down inside the fish.  One of the alarming things I find are the noises the fish make when you are trying to free the hook, it's like a gurgle sound and very off-putting when you first hear it. I tried several times to free the fish and felt myself getting warmer and warmer as I tried in vain to get the hook out, but then the end of the disgorger was covered in blood.  What damage was I doing to the poor creature ?  The blood then started to come out of the gills and my hand was covered with the stuff and I was fast approaching panic mode, but then suddenly the hook was out.  I looked at the poor listless fish and thought he had died, but then his gills started moving and his mouth was opening and closing.  There was still life there I thought, and dropped it back in the water.  Unfortunately it sank a few inches, turned over and floated to the surface, I was devastated and felt immensely guilty about killing it, but then a quick flick of the tail fin and it was off, albeit upside down.  I have to say the relief I felt was huge and I continued fishing, vowing never to put a fish through that experience again. Damian had come down to see what I was up to and he really cheered the situation by telling me that it was going to be eaten by a bigger fish anyway so not to worry about it.  A few minutes later I heard a splash right in front of me and when I looked down to the water's edge, there was the same fish upside down and clearly struggling to cling onto life.  I couldn't look at it, I tried to ignore it, but it would make a splash every so often as if it was mocking me and making me witness it's demise.  It lasted about ten minutes before it made one final effort to swim away, never to be seen again.

Damian was still having no luck with the big Carp and so he decided to get his float rod out and catch something, anything, just so he didn't draw a blank.  His first fish was a small Perch which did the same thing as the one I had murdered, and it took the bait and hook deep inside it's gullet.  He was struggling to free his fish as well and it wasn't long before the hook was out, but there was no hope for the poor creature.  Of course knowing how upsetting I had found having to watch my fish meet it's maker, Damian thought it would be such a jolly wheeze to throw his back right in front of me and make me watch the death throes of another fish.  This one was a bit more acrobatic than the first and swam around upside down in a circle while corkscrewing through the water until that to disappeared from sight.

The day came to a close and I headed off home shattered but happy thanks to a days fishing.....

Back in the Fold.....

Following my disaster at the local park and canal I needed to get back on the bank and catching fish.  My pride had been dented a little and I was suffering a little self doubt from my experience, but I had identified where I had gone wrong.  I had not plumbed and checked the depth of either lake or canal, I had just launched my line in with no preparation of either swim and believed that I was sure to catch something.  The fishing Gods had bitch slapped me back into reality and I felt suitably admonished.  I needed to get back out there before self doubt took over and I put the rods away and gave up like I have done in the past on so many occasions.  I knew that if I gave up now I would never go again and so I looked at the positives, I had identified where I had gone wrong with my approach and attitude, I should have plumbed the depth, I should have had more patience and not move from swim to swim so often and give the fish a chance to bite.

There are a few lads at work who are keen anglers, Luke, Damian and Richard, and we decided to start our own little fishing club and visit different fisheries around the UK, using our company vans to transport us and our gear around them.  We decided that our first club get together would take place on the last Bank Holiday (25th May) at Friezeland Pool in Bosworth, Leicestershire, the place where Luke had taken me on that first adventure two Sunday's previously.  To say I was a little nervous after the previous weekends disaster was putting it mildly; I had been plagued by self doubt all week and even started to think that by telling people that I hadn't wasted the time spent sitting on the bank because I had used the time practice my casting and learned a valuable lesson about preparation of tactics and the swim was just my way of trying cover up the failure and put on this brave face .  I think this may have been more for my own benefit rather than everyone else as I recognised the old anxieties returning about being useless.

Around half of those people who experience depression will also experience anxieties of one sort or another and taking steps to manage these feelings can help give you the mental space to begin to deal with your depression. Talking about what is making you anxious, as well as a healthy diet and exercising, will all help you to control your anxiety but this is where I had backed myself into a corner because over the last few years I had become a social recluse.  I had cut myself off from friends and locked myself away in my own little world where I knew that I wasn't going to be hurt by anyone.  By going fishing I have re-introduced myself socially to the outside world, and although I fish mainly with blokes from work, it really is a step in the right direction.

The plan was to meet up bankside at Friezeland Lakes for our first competition at 07.00 and we all duly arrived somewhere between 07.00 and 07.30, with myself being the last to arrive.  The fishery does not allow keep nets and so we agreed on a point system based on number of fish caught rather than weight and it went as follows:

1st Place - 50pts
2nd Place - 40pts
3rd Place - 30pts
4th Place - 20pts
Fish of the Day - Biggest fish caught - Bonus 25pts

The weather was warmish but cloudy and I was starting to regret wearing shorts as the sun struggled to clear the clouds, I also regretted the shorts later on in the day but I will explain when I get to that point.  At first we were all catching fairly regularly and the first two hours went past very quickly with Richard, Damian, Luke and myself all around the 15 fish mark.  It didn't matter how heavy the fish was, it was down to the number of fish caught, so while Richard fished on the top with dog biscuit, Damian fished on top with bread and Luke switched between his feeder rod and pole, I concentrated on the area just in front of the reeds on a place where the lake bed dropped from a foot to about three feet.  I was hitting small perch and roach who were taking the chopped luncheon meat hook-bait and maggot freebies I was feeding into the swim to encourage the fish into the swim.

I had Luke's lad Rhys (the 8 year old) in the peg next to me and he was getting frustrated that he wasn't catching, in fact the others had also slowed down a bit, but I was still going strong and catching with every cast.  Rhys decided that he would come down and keep my company and stood next to me asking what I was doing.  I told him that I had fed one part of the swim up while I fished the other, something he should try doing but the next thing I knew he had appeared at my side with his rod and plopped his float right in the swim I had been feeding up.  He caught straight away, in fact he got four in quick succession and I had just been mugged off by a minor.  After some moaning from me he moved back to his own peg, but not before he had negotiated taking some of my luncheon meat, a few hooks and some groundbait.  The little con merchant stitched me up like a kipper because I still have no idea what I got from the deal.

There then followed a period of calm when it seemed like no-one was catching anywhere but there was still a bit of life in the swim and my luncheon meat was proving to be a very popular bait.  I kept up a steady pace of catching from the margins, no huge fish though, nothing over 2 or 3 ounces, but every so often I would hook into something decent and without fail as soon as I did you could guarantee that Rhys would decide that was the perfect time to ask for help with his disgorger, come down for a chat or come and ask for some more meat to use as bait.  He did this four times and on each occasion I lost the hooked fish.  To say I wasn't too happy at losing the fish would be something of an understatement but you can't be angry with a youngster just wanting to have a chat or help, but the poor child did look a little shocked when I informed him that if it happened again he was going in the lake.  From further down the bank I could hear laughter coming from the direction of Damian and Luke who had been watching the events at my peg.  I didn't want Rhys to feel as if I was angry with him, because I wasn't at all, and I remembered how my Dad had made me feel when I was young so we made a deal with each other, that if my rod was in the water he would wait until it was out before bringing the Rhys jinx to my peg.

The afternoon drew on and Damian's and Luke's swims were not as active as they had been earlier in the day and Luke had changed tactics and was fishing with his pole now, but Damian was sticking with his approach he had started the day with, meanwhile further down the bank Richard had hardly moved from his swim and was just happily fishing away.  Richard is a serious carp fisherman with all the associated gear required for catching these huge lumps, and I shudder to think how much his gear is worth, but there was an awful lot of it with padded seats, huge landing nets, several different types of rod etc.  This is what I like about fishing though, the fish don't care about the manufacturers name of your rod, how much it cost or how much gear you have got.  You can draw a blank with all of the expensive stuff just as easily as you can with the old and battered kit that some have.

It was around now that I experienced just about the worst pain I have ever suffered in my life, the sort of pain that temporarily disables the power of speech and you just sit there with a wide open mouth emitting a scream so highly pitched that it can't be heard by human ears.  I had reeled my line in to swap the bait and got myself a little tangled up so pulled off some line from the reel to enable me to sort out the tangle in the line.  However this caused the line at the hook end to drop and rest on the floor between my feet.  I got myself sorted and started to wind in the line so I could put a fresh maggot on the hook and it was then that the hook made first contact with my knackers.  Instead of stopping and calmly unhooking myself I panicked a little and stupidly lifted the rod and line which made the hook dig deeper through my shorts and undercrackers and further into my left bollock (bollocks = nuts for our American friends).  I sat there in agony unable to think straight or know what to do next, I really was paralysed with the pain until my sense returned and I lowered the rod which took some not all of the pain away, and I was able to unhook myself.  It was a few hours before the soreness eased and the nauseous feeling left me.

By now Damian was getting increasingly frustrated at the lack of activity in his swim and decided to call it a day.  He had bagged about 15 carp in the first few hours but then had landed just four fish over the course of the next 6 hours.  This meant that the contest was done for the day and any fish caught now would not count to the total and would just be pleasure angling.  However, Damian always leaves his rods until the very last minute while he packs everything away so his rods were still active.  Luke decided to try his luck in Damian's swim and cast his pole out close to where Damian had been feeding the swim up.  Just seconds before Damian's rods came out Luke hooked and was fighting his fish as Damian bid us all goodbye and left in his van.  I doubt whether he had made the gates to the lake when Luke managed to land his fish which turned out to be a valuable fish as well and won him the bonus 25pts being 8lbs 14oz in weight.  Because it had been hooked while Damian's rod was still in the water it was a valid catch.

With the contest over we had a quick tally up and the result ended:

Me - 54 fish - 50pts
Richard - 51 fish - 40pts
Luke - 28 fish - 30pts plus 25pts for Fish of the Day
Damian - 19 fish - 20pts

I had won....I had won the first fishing contest I had ever been in and my confidence went through the roof.  Okay so Luke had more points, but I had caught the most fish.  I was buzzing and after the disaster of a few weeks earlier at West Smethwick Park and along the canal, it was the boost my confidence needed.  I knew then that I could fish, that I had proved that I wasn't useless as my Dad had made out all those years before.  In the grand scheme of things the win meant nothing really, the important thing for me was that I had done something with my Bank Holiday Monday, I had ventured off the sofa and been out with good mates and had a great time, even though my left knacker was still a tad sore.  I had actually done something for myself on a Bank Holiday and that was a huge thing for me.  Usually I would have got up stupidly early, pottered about the house for a few hours before getting onto the sofa and sleeping all day, went to the supermarket just before it closed and wasted the day by hiding myself away in the house.  I started to believe in myself as well.  It was a good day......

Flying Solo.....

Following on from my first proper fishing trip with Luke, I was full of beans the next day and felt so confident about everything.  The fact that I had lost £2 to Luke's two lads after a stupid bet about who would catch the most fish didn't even matter.  I had made a bet with a kid of eight and a five year old and even made them give me a five fish head start....How hard could this bet be to lose ?  Well very easily would be the answer to that.  They were like a pair of fishing Gods, hauling in a total of 40 plus fish between them while I managed a measly 20 fish.  I paid my debts amid howls of laughter from the pair of them and they asked if we could do a similar bet next time....My answer, on reflection, was probably not the best example of Anglo-Saxon I could have used to such innocent ears but then I remembered they live with Luke so would have been used to it.

I was buzzing all week, I felt ten feet tall and couldn't stop talking about how relaxing it had been, what I had caught and most probably lied about the size of the fish I had caught.  I wanted to get out there again and the following weekend I decided to head down to West Smethwick Park and see if I could catch something down there.  Luke had said that the test would be the first time I "blanked", when nothing was biting and my tactics were failing.  Would I have the testicular fortitude to stick with it or lose the enthusiasm I had been swept along on all week.

I had spent the Saturday sorting out a laptop for Shaun Hartley, who surprised me when he informed me that he had loads of fishing gear going to waste in his shed and some of it had never even been near the water.  I have thought Shaun was a lot of things over the years I have known him but I never had him down as an angler, so this revelation came as quite a shock to me.  Despite my pleas for him to let me use or even buy some of this equipment, he refused and laughed mockingly as he walked away after complaining, as he usually does, about the standard of the teabags I buy and the selection of biscuits I had.

I headed off to the local tackle and bait shop, Fisherman's Friend, and bought a pint of mixed maggots, a box of 4mm Strawberry flavoured pellets and a few other bit and pieces and looked forward to my afternoon spent where many young anglers from Smethwick and Oldbury had caught their first fish and learned their watercraft.  I was full of confidence and felt that I was sure to catch something, after all I had got 20 fish under my belt already from the previous week.  I was sure that the shellfish flavoured 6mm soft hooker pellets would prove as irresistible to the residents of the newly refurbished lake as they had to their relatives over at Friezeland Pools.  I couldn't fail, it wasn't even worth thinking about the prospect of not catching anything or "dry netting" as Shaun Hartley would say.

I set off in the van with all of my gear loaded, including one of my Mom's fold away deck chairs that I had found in the cupboard under the stairs, buoyed with the confidence of the previous week still coursing around my veins.  I hadn't really given my depression much thought over the previous week, I had been as relaxed and as happy as I had been for ages, and for once I was doing something with my time.  For the last few years I've fallen into a routine of getting home on Friday evening and locking myself away until I had work on Monday, despite making all sorts of plans about what I was going to do with my weekend.  It was always the same thing, I would get this job done, I would get that job done, I would do something constructive with my weekend.  The reality was that I would come in, lock the door and only venture out to the Tesco Express for cigarettes or milk, go to the Abbey Road chippy for a kebab and waste hours on facebook.  This was the norm for me and it would be no different on Saturdays and Sundays with the exception of sleeping on the sofa through the afternoons.  By Sunday evening I would be kicking myself that I had wasted another weekend, another weekend I was never getting back which added to my depression.  It was like I was on a loop, never ending and unstoppable.

I had been seeing people fishing in the park for a while, usually in the corner nearest Victoria Road, so I parked the van on the street and walked the short distance across the grass to the newly built platform from which I was going to fish.  The council often get criticised around here for all sorts of reasons, the state of the roads, the lack of amenities or the amount of spending on West Bromwich town centre (to be fair it really is like putting lipstick on a pig), but in fairness they really have done a great job on these platforms which are all fully accessible for disabled anglers.

I placed my fold away  chair, got my little 6' telescopic rod ready, not that it required much doing to be ready because I had not taken it apart from the previous week and I was off.  My first cast was pretty good and I managed to get out about 20 feet into the pool.  I sat there waiting patiently for the tell tale sign that a fish was interested in the bait.  Nothing happened for 15 minutes so I decided to put a fresh maggot on the hook and try again but got similar results.  Undeterred I tried again but my efforts were all to no avail and I again drew a blank with my hook time after time.  After about an hour of just sitting and watching my float move from one side of the lake to the other I started to have those familiar thoughts about being a failure return and when the ducks began calling I could imagine that it was in fact my Dad sat on the island laughing at me.

At this point I had two choices, I could pack everything up and give Luke his stuff back and make out that fishing wasn't for me or I could take what positives I could from the situation and make the best of what was turning out to be a bad day.  I have a wonderful friend from Portsmouth, Lesley, who is a very spiritual person and she has kind of guided me through some of the darkest times, but the most valuable thing she said to me was that I needed to change how I thought.  I should look at situations differently and seek out whatever positives I could, because there would be some if I looked hard enough instead of just diving into the darkness of negativity.  I was a bit sceptical at first, but when I tried it I found that it really did help and now I have completely changed HOW I think.  Changing WHAT I think has proved a tad elusive though.

After shaking the negative thoughts about my lack of bites I decided to use the time to practice my casting and spent the next hour casting out, reeling in, casting out, reeling in etc.  I was able to get a fair distance with my little rod and came away from my time on the poolside feeling a lot happier with myself.  However, I had a bait box full of maggots which had cost me £2.80, and being the tight fisted bloke I am there was no way I was going to waste them.  I decided to head to one of the local canals and see if I could catch anything there.  I had been reading about canal fishing in magazines, watching videos on YouTube and felt confident that the day was not wasted.  I initially went to one of my favourite parts of the canal system at the end of Engine Street in Oldbury.  The canal here branches off the Birmingham Mainline Canal and terminates at Titford Pool, and it is usually quiet and you can park quite nearby, but today it was rammed with people and parking was non-existent.  Apparently this stretch of the canal is leased by a local angling club and they were having a contest there, so I was forced to seek a new place to fish or run the risk of incurring the wrath of the anglers in the club.

I decided to head for the car park at the bottom of Bridge Street in Smethwick, where I had seen others fishing in the past, plus there was room to park in between the piles of rubbish, discarded sofas and bags of rubble that some kindly local had tipped there.  I decided to fish the Old Birmingham Main Line section that was built by James Brindley way back in the 1700's and was responsible for the growth of Smethwick and the surrounding areas during the Industrial Revolution.  The town today has very little industry and former factory sites have been raised to the ground and characterless boxes built to create new housing estates.  I settled down in one of the large pools between the locks and cast out, hoping to catch something, anything.  I could hear the fish breaking the surface of the canal, hear the odd splash as one jumped but I just could not tempt one to sacrifice itself for my honour which had already taken a battering earlier.

I had read the magazines and watched videos of canal fishing, I had the correct bait, the very bait recommended by the experts in the magazines, still nothing.  I spent the next 2 hours just sat there watching my float move slowly down the canal, carried on the wind that was blowing across the surface of the water and carrying my hopes with it.  Despite the jibes from a certain Mr Hartley, I used the positive thought process and identified several areas which I could take as positives ready for the next adventure on the bankside....

Maybe I will keep this one updated

I have tried to keep a regular blog going for a few years now, but for whatever reason, I get all enthusiastic and post regularly for a few weeks but then get disheartened that nobody reads the posts and I maybe just wasting my time.  However, this time I am determined to keep this one going, even if I am the only person reading it.

I will post mostly about my new hobby, fishing and how it has helped me with my depression.  Now fishing was a sport that I was dead against a few short months ago, but then after being diagnosed and being advised by my Doctor to find a hobby, I went fishing with a work colleague, Luke Smith.  I had taken the piss out of Luke and another colleague, Damian Smith, for years about fishing and said that if I did ever go with them I would throw stones into the water and scare the fish away because I had serious problems about hooking a living creature in the mouth and hauling it from it's natural environment. I just could not see how anyone could take any sort of pleasure from the sport and had been dead against it for years.  This was not just the only reason I had for my dislike of fishing.  I had vivid memories of my Dad trying to teach me how to cast correctly as a kid and getting shouted at if I did it wrong.  At the time we lived in a maisonette above the laundrette in Windmill Precinct, and my playground was the car park at the back of the shops.  It was here that my fishing lessons took place, with my Old Fella telling me that before anything else I had to learn how to cast before he would take me anywhere near the water.  I tried to do it the way he showed me, but for whatever reason I just could not grasp the technique he was showing me.  I had to stand on the kerb of a covered area and cast my line until I could hit the doors of the garages that ran along the one side of the car park.  It wasn't a huge distance, possibly 30 to 40 feet from the kerb to the door, but I just couldn't do it.  I tried and tried for hours but after breaking the line a few times, losing the little weights he had put on the line and frustrating him beyond belief I heard the now familiar rant that I got whenever he got frustrated with me, that I was useless.

This wasn't a new thing for me to hear, in fact it was something I heard on a regular basis if I couldn't grasp anything new at the first attempt and produce results that he obviously wanted me to.  The result of this relationship was that I grew up desperate for his approval, but never quite managed to get it.  It also had the affect that I would never try anything new for fear of failure and even today I get quite stressed out if I am sent anywhere by work for a job I am not used to.  Once I get my head around things I am fine, but it still takes me a long time to get enough confidence to try anything and there are a number of DIY jobs around my house that will pay testimony to this.  I'm not going to make this a place where I just bash my Dad, it's just the way he was and I loved him dearly, but he never seemed to have anything good to say about me.  I suppose I grew used to things being this way and accepted it as the norm, that everyone's Dad must have been the same as mine.  I just wanted my Dad to like me, but he was never the sort of person who could display affection easily, but I soon worked out I could make him laugh and I associated someone laughing at me with them liking me, and so began a lifetime of being the joker in the pack.  I have used humour as a shield over the years which continues to this day.

Anyway, before I go on far too long about how I am some sort of damaged, emotional cripple, I will leave it there but just add that my childhood wasn't all doom and gloom, there were some parts that I have very dear memories of, but the experience did leave me without confidence and with very little self esteem.  Feeling I was never good enough has impacted my life and has allowed others to manipulate my weaknesses.  During a disastrous marriage my ex-wife would tell me constantly that I was an ugly, fat useless so and so and that people only really accepted me as a friend because of what they could get from me, that no-one liked me and I should consider myself fortunate that she was with me because I would struggle to ever find a woman who would want to be seen with me.  All of this just compounded what I believed anyway, that I wasn't a nice person.


My breakthrough came when my marriage ended I suppose and I realised that my ex was just transferring her insecurities onto me, but the damage had been done and I have been in two, maybe three serious relationships since then.  I now find myself attracted to women I know I have no chance of being with because they are either married, in relationships or just so far out of my league.  However, this is safe for me because I know that I am not going to be rejected or get hurt.  The times when I have been in a relationship I have gone into it with a feeling that it was going to end badly (for me) and I have kind of engineered the break-up and then got depressed about it.  That has pretty much been my life really, one of pessimism and failure, convinced that everything people have said about me is true and that I am not a likeable person and I had just accepted that was how it was for me and I have plodded on regardless.


My depression has been there for years but somehow I have managed to keep it from surfacing and gone about things like I was on automatic pilot.  I would worry that I wasn't a good enough engineer at work and being placed in positions of trust did help a little and I started to think that maybe I was a better person than I had been told, but the joker was still very much there.  I would play the fool around the other engineers, make them laugh and believed that they liked me because of that, using humour as a shield again.  The depression was always there and I found it very easy to suppress the feelings by larking about but socially I locked myself away and became a recluse.


Things didn't improve much through 2014 for me, despite the birth of my granddaughter in June 2013, when my Mom's health deteriorated rapidly over the course of 9 months. My Dad had passed away in 1999, and my Mom had a second lease of life and she was a totally different person.  She was never in, she was going out more to concerts and social events, travelling abroad on her own and generally loving life, but she developed pains in her legs and arms and found it increasingly difficult to get out.  The decline was very fast and following a few serious falls she was admitted into hospital and it became very clear that she was never going to be able to live on her own again.  This loss of independence hit her hard and steadily her health got worse and worse and she passed away in December 2014.  At first I felt a huge sense of relief that her suffering was over and I began to feel confident about my future, but things were about to get worse for me a few months later.


I had watched my Mother slowly die over the nine months and things came to a head in February when I broke down and was swallowed up by the dark clouds of severe depression.  My bosses at work rallied round and got me the help I needed from my Doctor and touch wood, things have steadily improved. The Doctor told me that maybe I needed a hobby and try doing things that would make sure I was out socialising rather than shutting myself away.  I started looking on the internet at different things I could try and considered allsorts of things, but fishing seemed to have an appeal. If nothing else it would be a chance to prove to myself that my Dad was wrong in his assessment and that I wasn't useless after all.


Luke suggested that I go along with him to try fishing and he gave me some of his old gear so I went out and bought a few extra items from the local tackle shop.  The men who worked in the shop were very helpful and answered all of my questions and suggested what I would need to get me going.  I informed them that I had been given a little telescopic rod with a cheap reel and also a 12' rod designed for catching Carp and they told me to see how things went before buying the more expensive kit.

The day arrived and I went into it thinking I would probably last a few hours before heading home but sitting on the bank of the lake was incredibly relaxing and I managed to last 12 hours before we packed up for home.  I hadn't felt so relaxed in ages and couldn't wait to get out there again.  I caught about 20 fish including a 5lb 14oz Common Carp and loved every minute of the experience.  The thought of hooking a living creature in the mouth had bothered me a little, but I suppose the 'hunter-gatherer' gene kicked in and I soon put those feelings to the back of my mind......I wanted to go again but the next episode left me frustrated.