Today I went fishing with Peter Webber on his favourite stretch of the river Medway even though there was 3? of snow and a temperature of -2. The wildfowl down there are outrageous first my chosen swin was killed stone dead by a couple of geese (no relation) then at about 11.00 we were treated to a low level fly past by a squadron of swans doing their impersonation of the dam busters raid on a younger swan. The stupid buggers managed to miss Pete?s lines but ploughed straight through mine, taking out both rods. After much cussing and a great number of four letter phrases I re-tackled up and settled back down to a biteless session. At 4.00 I had a tentative knock on the quiver with a shout coming up from Pete ?you in? not sure I said feels like a fish on but a little strange. As I continued to retrieve line my feeder appeared, not much of a fish I thought, then my hook broke the surface but without a fish, but I could still feel the tug tug of a Roach, wishful thinking I thought. Still there was this little tug tug, then I saw that i was hauling in a length of line. I said to Pete that I must be reeling in an old piece of end tackle with a hefty weight bouncing along the bottom. I shouted to Pete to hand line it in for me as I was sure there was a fish attached but my feeder had now hit the top ring of my rod and I could do no more. So hand over hand he hauled in the line to find a Roach of around 1Ib tugging on the end. After closer examination it turned out to be my hook length with a swivel and six feet of 4Ib Maxima line that the marauding swans had broken off 5 hours earlier. And that was the only fish we caught all day. Top that for a fisherman's tail if you can.