End of the day...

... and what a one it was.

Out of the tent at 08:00 because it had become a furnace; a quick brekkie and then straight into the fishing whereupon a lesson in how to catch trout and grayling was duly delivered. The score is four-nil to Dad.

The sunshine, the fishing, the camping, my Afon Hafren, the RAF playing a game of "who has the largest balls?" in and out of the valleys here and it could almost be 1982 all over again. *refrains from comment about Tories, economy or posh fuckers ruling us*

Anyway, this was the very last shot I took today after being handed my arse on a plate. Tomos Watkin's Magic Lagyr is a fine, fine brew and unless I buck up tomorrow I'll need more of it to drown the sorrows.

What a rare old day indeed!

x