EVERY fisherman has a tale of one that got away. (From Warrington Guardian)

EVERY fisherman has a tale of one that got away.

With Mike Parsons

Most of the stories are exaggerated boasting but mine is true, honest, so let me reel you in.

Pleasure angling, which is a more popular sporting activity than any other in the United Kingdom, has been a hobby of mine since high school days. I have been a member of Warrington Anglers' Association since then.

Targeting specimen fish like carp has not been my bag. I have always been happy with whatever breed of fish I have caught from whatever venue I have visited. That has always allowed for a surprise element.

To some non-anglers, sat on the bank patiently waiting for a float to bob under the surface is as boring as watching paint dry.

For me, although some other anglers may find this difficult to understand, catching a fish has not always been my priority while 'fishing'.

Enjoying the peace and tranquillity of out-of-the-way places is a wonderful break from the stresses of daily life. There is something special and calming in listening to the wildlife and the trickle of water but if you are sat there for a few

hours without a fishing rod in your hand, some nosey so-and-so may wonder what you are up to.

But this easily-pleased approach to 'fishing' all changed for me in September, 2003.

While fishing on a relatively unknown weedy lake on a holiday park in north Wales, my orangetipped float and lightweight second-hand tackle was suddenly put under the kind of strain that it had not experienced in 20 years.

I had been the only angler on the sloping bank side for a few hours and without the sign of a nibble on my small hook's sweetcorn offering. The heavens had just opened, my umbrella was keeping me dry but I was certainly

not prepared for what happened next.

Without any nudge of a warning, my float just suddenly whipped under. My reactions were as slow as an elephant trying to turn on a sixpence but finally I lifted the fishing rod off its rest and struck backwards to hook into a small

roach, perch or eel - the usual sport for me on this particular water.

But this time it was different. My rod bent like the curviest of bananas and for the first time in my life I had hooked into something massive - much bigger than the 4lbs mirror carp that was my previous best catch.

I got up from my seat in a bid to control the fish's fight and soon ended up on my backside in the mud from the belting rain.

It seemed an age before the fish, which I could see was a mirror carp, came to within distance of my small landing net and just when I thought the job was

complete the carp came off the hook (a size 20 for those in the know) and darted away.

From that point it has been my quest to catch a big carp at that particular venue, and in the right way with the right gear that protects the fish.

My wife, God bless her, bought me some specialist carping equipment - that I had picked out - for Christmas last year and I have made numerous trips to the lake in 2004 to realise my goal.

To date, I have not had another bite but that's fishing. I'll let you know when I do succeed.