ouchthathurt
Well-known member
- Joined
- May 15, 2021
- Messages
- 2,909
- Reaction score
- 12,452
- Points
- 113
- Location
- Hastings East Sussex
- Favourite Fishing
- Shore
This little tale starts on Thursday morning, when I take a wander into town with wifey and baby in tow, whilst enjoying a stroll along the Stade, I just so happen to pop into the local tackle shop for some new line. Well, it would be rude not to take a score of live lug home with me, wriggling away in their little tub. “When are you going to use them?” Wifey asks, “you’re on nights from tonight” fair point i suppose, “oh the worms will be ok for a night or two says the shop keep” so I’ll smash out my two night shifts piloting one of the NHS’s finest ambulances then hit the beach.
So later that night, having completed the first job of the shift, and heading to the next, an awful queasiness came over me. “Bloody hell mate” I say to my crewmate, “pull the ambulance over, I’m gonna spew” with that, there found a professional ambulance clinician, dry heaving by the roadside. With me now unable to continue, I headed home to spend the next 3 days praying to god down the porcelain throne. By the time I felt well enough to leave my bed, the weekend had passed on and this morning had dawned. Unfortunately, my live lug had also passed on. So at 4am, this fine morning, I found myself watching the sun come up over the Kent shoreline.
The bait situation was quickly sorted with my trusty lug pump (with its brand new flip flop washers) and both rods were sent seawards to drop behind the small surf line. 
The wind was coming straight off the land, flattening the sea out and keeping the temp down to a cold 4-6c so I wasn’t massively confident, but it was nice to be out getting fresh sea air in my lungs and clear out the noravirus.
As the tide turned and started to flood, my right hand rod eased back and fell slack. Walking steadily backwards I lent into a weight, which slowly made its way into shore. Within minutes, a bass slid up the shore.
The fish was neatly hooked in the scissors and quickly went back. The rest of the session went on with casts and retrieves, washed out baits and empty hooks. Nothing else materialised for the rest of the session, so I released my excess lug and headed off home.
So later that night, having completed the first job of the shift, and heading to the next, an awful queasiness came over me. “Bloody hell mate” I say to my crewmate, “pull the ambulance over, I’m gonna spew” with that, there found a professional ambulance clinician, dry heaving by the roadside. With me now unable to continue, I headed home to spend the next 3 days praying to god down the porcelain throne. By the time I felt well enough to leave my bed, the weekend had passed on and this morning had dawned. Unfortunately, my live lug had also passed on. So at 4am, this fine morning, I found myself watching the sun come up over the Kent shoreline.
The bait situation was quickly sorted with my trusty lug pump (with its brand new flip flop washers) and both rods were sent seawards to drop behind the small surf line. The wind was coming straight off the land, flattening the sea out and keeping the temp down to a cold 4-6c so I wasn’t massively confident, but it was nice to be out getting fresh sea air in my lungs and clear out the noravirus.As the tide turned and started to flood, my right hand rod eased back and fell slack. Walking steadily backwards I lent into a weight, which slowly made its way into shore. Within minutes, a bass slid up the shore.
The fish was neatly hooked in the scissors and quickly went back. The rest of the session went on with casts and retrieves, washed out baits and empty hooks. Nothing else materialised for the rest of the session, so I released my excess lug and headed off home.
