Fishing Trips V.i Mr Chips and the Monnow

I am trying something new and giving you all real time updates on a little trip I am taking to the Monnow. I am meeting a headmaster, who shall be known here as Mr Chips.
I am down in the Beacons because of work. I went to film a very clever, rather excellent gentleman. He is a historic engineer, which means he recreates or fixes old things made out of metal, this can be as big as a steam engine or as innocuous as the handles on kitchen cupboards.  Apparently, as a twelve year old boy he used to make pocket money tying flies from a vice that he made himself by sneaking into the school technology workshop.  Brilliant.
I followed my sat nav with more trust in faith than I have in a lot of people, including some relatives. It took me (hallelujah!) to Hay on Wye, where I wandered about a bit. It's a book town, which means that the pharmacy sells books and the coffee shop sells reading glasses.
My lovely bed and breakfast, called the Bridge, really is on the bridge and its garden leads down to the banks of the Wye. There was an LDO hatch and I saw something rise.
Anyway, they call me Polly and I am to call the Catherine and Richard. You can hear their children playing in the house, so I feel very much a guest rather than a customer. This sense of being in a home is heightened by the fact that none of the doors have locks on them.
Anyway, they kindly let me use their dining room to catch up on my tying.
I bashed out a pile of things using rabbit face (Hare's Mask). Not nicely tied but quickly made and they should do the job. Well I think so. Mr Chips will no doubt tell me otherwise and I'll be a good girl and listen.
To be honest, I am really nervous. It's been ages since I have fished and I am a duffer anyway. Anyway, tomorrow will set the benchmark for the inevitable improvement that takes place over a season. It's like the start of term really. The only difference being that instead of new pencils and exercise books, it's flies and tippet.

To the Journey

Many of you may have guessed that I have failed miserably with the Ollie/Polly Project. For the writer of Julie/Julia there would always be something needful and comforting about cooking French cuisine. The same thing cannot be said about the Vojic Moser Caddis. Gluing tights over an embroidery hoop does not have the same appeal as gently simmering cream. So that's that.

As I write (I am typing up my notebook jottings) I am on a train to Edinburgh for work. Two mornings before I was in London and bombed it back to work in Leeds at five o'clock in the morning. At three o'clock the previous morning, I surveyed the Anarchist damage to Fortnum and Mason's by rickshaw. I felt slightly distatsteful at the time and began to sink into a mild depression (as only those in the public sector can) over the cutd. I soon retreated back into my bourgeois comfort zone and pondered just how delicious the potted shrimps at Fortnums are. To quote a misquote, "Let them eat cake!" I shan't though. I am sucessfully over a dress size smaller and I am enjoying getting thinner so much that I think I'll keep going for a bit.
Today, thanks to a forgotten train ticket I commuted between York and Leeds before catching the 9.37 to Edinburgh. On Friday I leave my house at six o'clock in the morning to get to Talgarth for work. I am then finally nestling myself in the Beacons for a little rest.
True rest, of course, means fishing. A winter's careful stressing and fretting is quickly unravelled by flashing a line through the wrinkles of a flowing stream. The particular stream in question is the Monnow. It has been carefully prescribed by a dear headmaster. So, as my mad travels end, a new season begins. I'll let you know how it goes.

A New Look for the New Season?

I've been really rather busy.  Disappointingly this hasn’t been because I have had a whirlwind affair with a better looking, blonder, taller Brian Cox type. Nor is it the case that I have won the lottery, and buggered off to Cuba to smoke Havana’s, drink mojitos and fish for bonies and inappropriate men. I did, however, win my local Fly Dresser’s Guild raffle.

The truth is that things have been a little gloomy. Work, family, friends are all taking their toll a little in various ways. However, as my daffodils keep frustrating me by refusing to flower, I feel I am teetering on the precipice of hope, commonly called Spring.  So despite everything, I can’t help but smile. This is partly because I have some fishing coming up in early April. I have decided to take myself on a little holiday to the beautiful Brecon Beacons. Trout, books and B&B bliss.

I have been on the hunt for some waders. The Google shopping results were interesting.

Simms, swanky expensives, as worn by Oprah no less, were options one and two. The final suggestion was intriguing. A Glamorous Body, Suit for £30. This piqued my curiosity, unfortunately with one maverick click of the mouse I was confronted with the image below.  I think, however, that despite its overt glamour, the suit won’t be much good for fishing. It looks a little chilly and leaky and it might give the wrong impression.