There's also much clearing out of old gear and rubbish to be done at 'Gurney Towers'. A cold snowy winter day would seem the ideal time to at least make a start.
Why then was I embarking on a two mile walk to fish for roach on a lake that I'm not even sure holds fish of the calibre I'm targetting? Where predator anglers find it almost impossible to catch livebaits in the summer. Where I blanked last time out.
I knew that the river wouldn't fish today, it's well up, and never seems to produce at this level.
It was swelled further by the overflow of the canal....
...which looked a bit like the tea you buy at Luton Town games.
At least the lake wasn't up and coloured, it didn't look too welcoming though..
I had it in my mind that if I was a fat roach in the cold, chilly depths of this lake, I'd quite like a pineapple flavoured red maggot at this time of year.
Why then, do I never choose the easy option when I actually decide to fish? What is it that makes me want things difficult, not easy? Is it that buzz of triumph over adversity I crave?
I don't know, but the two miles back were harder with no fish, and at home, the unbuilt rod still sat unbuilt.