Sickly New Year

Good grief, what a start to 2009. The real threat to my fishing is not cormorants, foul weather or fish nicking immigrants, but employment and illness. The first is a necessary evil, the second just a bloody nuisance. I generally don't get ill often at all, but when I do it's like those appalling reality TV shows; just when you think it's over, you get another fortnight of misery.
About the only Christmas time trip was an afternoon to the River Tone, where the freezing weather beat any attempts to take chub and dace on the unusual method of czech nymphs. My brother did rather better on maggots, inevitably, but bites were still scarce.
So, to cut a long story short, it has been frustrating. You know you're properly ill when even fishing loses its appeal. I'm getting utterly sick of the taste of Lemsip and the only worthwhile activity has been tying some flies and dreaming of a warmer, healthier spring. I already have a small production line of favourites, including the slightly ridiculous but utterly deadly "Rubber Daddy" as shown below. Who knows, I may even get to use it at some point....