Fishing Village shop

THERE is little better in the way of a jolly day out than The Game Fair. This year’s at Ragley Hall, in my part of the world, was no exception although the dreaded virus was doubtless to blame for it being about half its normal size. Gunmakers’ Row thronged with stands and buyers although the Fishing Village had shrunk to little more than a tiny encampment that, for this enthusiast at least, was a major disappointment. I go each year ready to spend large on replacements for all those flies I lose up trees and, this year, I was in the market for a rod as well. I’ve recently developed a nasty, and expensive, tendency to break my 11ft to 12ft, 8wt, salmon/sea-trout rods (plural). And so it was that, amply refreshed after a generous ‘chumming’ of fine auctioneer champagne (thank you Robin at Bonhams) I set off to the fishings, aiming to cast long with my credit card.

No such luck.