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I prefer to think of myself as an all-rounder, blanking with roach, pike, carp and chub equally, often while having the time of my life. Fishing is too serious a preoccupation to be taken up soley with catching fish. Not long ago I saw a parahelia or sun dog while failing to catch pike. It's not every day you see multiple suns unless you're in the middle of a miracle.

Impossible to choose which fish or method I prefer though if the pursuit means minimal tackle I'm more inclined to try. Consequently lure fishing for predators, trundling a worm under a bush and stuffing an open ended feeder with sweetcorn all appeal. Unorthodox approaches find favour too, placing a deadbait comically close in the margins, plugging for chub, and catching eels in trout waters have all brought stern comments from people who know better but work for me. Last year among the neon lights and derelict mills of a northern town I watched a fly fisherman elegantly taking broad backed trout among the burger boxes and chapatis to a drum and bass soundtrack. Beauty can be found anywhere if you care to look.

Sometimes fishing is a remarkable, transcendent thing and you can lose yourself in the eddies and reflections and fear you might never return, time suspended on a timeless river, Peter Pan among the lost boys. Sometimes it's grim and you get freezing wet. Both can be recommended.

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