I fished in hope of perch today suspending half a juicy lobworm beneath a sliding float. The six hours passed by all too quickly with the float remaining stubbornly buoyant throughout the day. It was sheltered in the old quarry as gale force winds roared above, the trees swaying vigorously too and fro. The dark and moody water hiding its secrets. Fallen trees lay rotting at the waters edge. It has been several years since I last fished here and it was good to be back finding that it was reassuringly familiar. Waters are like old friends that never seem to age.