Top Quality French Carp Fishing
NEW Lake Record caught on 26th. April 2017 at 76lb 15oz
and 6 different 60lb plus carp And 2 known 70lb plus carp.
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To contact Sharon or any of the Moorlands team direct phone 0033 385 922 953.
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Chapter Eight -
THE DAY THE COCKEREL DIED
Most of our memories of our time in France have been good ones but there are also the occasional bad ones which teach you so much about people.
One such occasion occurred when I walked into “The Oaks” swim on a Friday morning to see how an angler had got on during the night. He had spent the week fishing with his family as guests and was due to leave that morning. I couldn’t believe his reply to my “Any luck last night?”
“I lost a big fish last night Keith.”
“Why, what happened?”
“Well you know what it’s like. I had an absolute flyer during the night so I dashed out just in my boxers and hit it. I immediately knew it was a big fish and that it was going to take a while to land and I was freezing, so I tightened the clutch and pulled out of it so that I could go back to bed.”
The fact of the matter was that I didn’t “know what it was like.”
I would never have dreamt of purposely pulling out of a fish and I was livid. I did try to explain that he had probably ripped a hole in the fish’s mouth but had to walk away before I exploded.
As soon as Jan saw me she could read the signs and knew that she needed to get me away from the anglers for a few minutes.
“Be a love and go and feed the chickens for me?” she asked and then added, as I picked up the feed bucket, “Be careful of the cockerel. He’s evil.”
I walked through the orchard in silence and then into the large chicken run. I spread the grain around and the hens, and cockerel, clucked around quite normally.
By now some of the red mist had evaporated and I was beginning to breathe normally so I decided to collect the eggs. As I bent into the hutch doorway the cockerel took his chance and pierced the back of my legs with both spurs.
With a quick squeal of pain I swung the empty bucket round in an attempt to knock him out of the way. At exactly the same time the cockerel flew over the bucket and aimed his second strike at my throat.
The bucket was let go and my years of slip fielding resulted in me catching him perfectly around the neck. With the immortal words “you picked the wrong bloody person on the wrong bloody day.” His body and head became separated in one movement.
At exactly the same moment, a young female voice shouted “Grandad, what have you done. I’m telling Nanny.” My young Granddaughter, Bethany, took off running towards the house.
Jesus, I thought, now I’m for it. I pushed the body of the cockerel into the bucket and then placed the eggs on top.
By the time I got back to the house Bethany was stood at the door trying to tell Jan what had happened. With hands on hips she started “Grandad’s ff……. , Grandad’s ffff……….”
My God I thought if she says what I think she’s trying to say that’ll be my fault too. Suddenly she blurted out “Granddad’s pulled its bloody head off.”
We will never know what she had originally been trying to say but I’m pleased to say that the atmosphere dissolved into uncontrollable laughter from all of us and the bird provided us with two superb breast portions for dinner.