On the Saturday morning of the tour, 4 intrepid anglers set off in high hopes from the Bridge Inn at Penkridge for the nearby Gailey trout fishery. Would the chef at The Bridge be able to cope with the copious catch of fresh trout and get in on the menu for the evening meal? Mi’lud, 2 bricks, 1 brick and Fairy being the Famous 4, mused over these ideas as they duly arrived at the pre booked fishery.

2 bricks, a fly fisherman of some thirty years experience wondered about the stocking of the water as he cast his eyes on a seemingly life-less and troutless stretch of water. The fact that not another solitary angler was fishing on a Saturday also rang many alarm bells of troutlessness. “I’ve seen more life in a tramp’s vest” he was heard to utter.

The fishery warden, a genial chap with a quaint West Midlands accent and a distinct lack of mental arithmetic skills, infact, skills of any kind, proceeded to take half an hour to work out how to charge our Gnomadic anglers for the privilege of boating and fishing this lifeless mere. Frequently interjecting, “What name was it again”, Mi’lud, repeating Richardson, increasing the volume each time the question was posed. A price finally being agreed and duly paid.

The stocking policy was brought further into question when the warden decided to stock the water, there and then himself, by falling over the side of the boat whilst attempting to rig the outboard. He was pulled out by 1 brick and 2 bricks and at that point, the only living thing in the lake was on dry land again.

There followed 4 hours of fruitless fly-casting by 4 Gnomes. The fishing was nearly as bad as our bowling. Mi’lud said he’d has a perch and a tree and claimed victory. 2 bricks could not be bothered. 1 brick put in another bid for tour tosser by navigating 2 bricks half way to Telford on the way back. They all took solace in beer