His master’s vice
A warm day, overcast, nothing in a rush but water and hatching insects; stillness dappled with bird chat and the swish of reeds. A rise plops; you lift your rod and the reel spins. Add to this picture an adoring presence, silently appreciating the scene, a companion thrilled by the fight, bursting to admire your fish when it comes to hand, and above all never expecting to have a go themselves. Who would not fancy this idyllic vision, even just a little?
Unless it is sunny, the riverbank is dry and I have a good book, the delights of spectating my husband’s angling skills generally wane after an hour. It has therefore fallen to the dogs of our household to play fly-fishing sidekick, with inconsistent results. Daisy, our sweet Airedale, learned eventually not to stray ahead. In her maturity, she even listened for rising trout. Our first pointer, Coral – a German wire-haired virtuoso of
