As sharp as a dishwasher?

Sometimes I astonish myself with just how thick I really am, no - not a bit silly, completely stupid! Over the past two weekends I have had five eel bites, landing just one fish. I have spent incredible amounts of time thinking about my rigs and the presentation of my baits. I've explored all sorts of excuses for my short comings and then yesterday evening, having just missed another chance, I had my "eureka" moment!
Here we go - this will blow you away! Fish my bait directly on the hook, not on a hair! Such has been my stubborn insistence to use a braided hook link, in conjunction with a hair-rigged bait, that I have consistently overlooked the glaringly obvious. The eels are picking up my baits without ever getting the hooks in their mouths, my attempts at striking the bites simply pulls the hair out of the bait. Yep, couldn't make it up - I am one dumb arse! I'm back out again this afternoon; let's see if putting a bait directly on the hook improves things? (Can't see the wood for the trees seems to fit very well in this situation) Standing there, last night, the wind howling across the marsh - I found myself thinking about Mum, which lead me to other thoughts. Why was I out there, pushing myself, when it would have been far easier to be tucked up warm and cosy indoors?  If you've not read it - Jonathan Livingstone Seagull might help provide an insight into my own views on life. It's a powerful tale for anyone seeking answers - if you've a spare 45 minutes then Neil Diamond's soundtrack might set you on the right road? https://youtu.be/8jbIizyoLdI I suggest that, if you are a birder, reading the book will be far more advantageous than watching the film - how many species did they use to tell the tale?

This one's for Leon!(We met in Kefalonia) In 1973 Mum introduced me to the story of Jonathan Livingstone Seagull.
A superb narrative, the book written by Richard Bach, an aviator and member of The God Squad.
 I didn't sign up then and haven't now, but find myself drawn by something more meaningful than atheism.
The soundtrack album, by Neil Diamond, is a work of genius - there's some powerful lyrics in there.
"Dear Father we dream, we dream, while we may"

Only two rods tonight, the swim I want doesn't allow room for three without potential of disaster in the form of eel knitting, as a hooked fish picks up one of the other lines during the fight. Back to my short session approach, I will be at the drain by 16.00 hrs and off by 20.00 hrs (especially as the forecast predicts heavy rain and 60mph gales). Temperatures are down, slightly, from yesterday yet it is still very mild for the time of year.

I love this blogging lark, I can go anywhere I like - I'm now back home with another part of my challenge out of the way. I've just spent a couple of hours getting soaking wet and blown to bits; enjoying every minute. The words of Neil Diamond have been rattling around inside my head since I revisited the album yesterday evening. Why was I out eel fishing in February? Because I can and that's my driving influence - because I can! How often is it easier to find an excuse to put off, or prevent, an event taking place? I've done it many times myself but now realise the importance of making the effort whilst I still have the ability and health! Mum knew that us boys were never going to join her devout and stoic belief, but she sure pointed us in the right direction for living life to the maximum, and for that I'm eternally grateful.

A February eel - because I can; thanks Mum!

My February eel came at 18.20 hrs to a Sprat head section, fished directly on the hook. Who'd have thought it?