I have been putting it off since I got back from the Christmas snowys trip.
I was going to say it was like getting your prostate checked, but unless you really enjoy another man tampering with your bottom, with the precursor of “ok now lift your knees to your chest” (before I continue- nothing good ever comes of that sentence. Ever. I repeat- ever) it’s actually nothing like a prostate check. I do actually enjoy tying flys. Honest.
Just not in 38 degrees.
Looking down into my fly box, which has the appearance of a fire ravaged forest, I know it can’t be put off any longer. There are flys to be tied, and spaces to fill, but as the house is as cold as a hot pie, and sitting under a desk lamp would have been like trying to tie flys with your head in the oven, I have most definitely been procrastinating.
As I sit here writing this the southerly change has finally started to come through, and soon it will begin.