Sexy system makes fun out of quick dabble

Nursing a hangover that, 48 hours after its conception, was still as bitchy as ever, I went fishing. Eight a.m., on the bank, watching as the world around me woke up. I adore early mornings; seeing the mist hover over the ground before it disappears and the land takes on its day-dress. Breathing in air that's slightly too sharp and frisks you awake.

There was just one other fisherman apart from us, and a man wearing red trousers, way too bright for the muted colours of dawn, walking his dog. The evening before, we had made some damsel nymph flies. I say we, I lounged – still half-drunk – on the sofa, dipping in and out of a dreamy sleep. But Pete wound round bits of chenille and marabou in lime green, white or black around a size 10 hook and stuck some chain-bead eyes on to make them come alive, for fishing the next day.

The other great thing about early morning is that the streets are as unclogged as an athlete's arteries. You can just zoom straight to wherever you want. It took 45 minutes to traverse London and arrive at Syon Park. Rain had been forecast so we wanted to get the fishing in before the fabled hour of one o'clock, when the clouds were meant to wring themselves out.

Nearly always, I arrive by the water's edge thinking I will be into a fish within a few moments. Whence I get this dangerously confident assumption, I don't know.

Syon Park is a fishery but the lake is shaped like a long ribbon so you can half-pretend it's a river, which makes the place seem nicer. But it's not a cheap place so we don't go there very much. However, they have introduced a scheme which other fisheries would do well to follow (perhaps some have, so do please write in and let me know). Whereas before you bought a day or half-day's ticket with a fish restriction and when your time was up that was it, now, you purchase, say a two-fish ticket, which costs £20 and if you don't catch any fish you can come back and fish again until you catch your bag limit. At least, this is what the man on the quad bike told us. What he failed to tell us, perhaps because he thought it was obvious, but it wasn't, was that each time you come again you pay £7 for a day ticket which you need in order to "fish out" your remaining allowance. Despite this, it's still a great idea. Especially for me, I hate to feel pressured into fishing for my bag limit; but equally feel wasteful if I don't. This way I can come back and fish for just £7 and buy top-up fish allowance tickets as and when I need them – e.g.: for another two fish it's £12.

In this, I think fishing is a bit like sex. Sometimes you want to fish but aren't sure if you want a quick dabble or a great big long, multi-fish session. And you want to be able to walk away if you're not enjoying it. So this new (to me) fishing ticket system was most welcome news.

Pete had had a few pulls – we're off the analogy now – but I had had nothing, despite fishing really well and diligently. I changed nymph colours from lime green, which is what I'd started with – I thought it might be a good wake-up fly for the fish – to a black-bodied pattern. Still nothing. After about 40 minutes, Pete had a 2.2lb rainbow in the net. Then it started to rain, four hours before it was due to. I wasn't dressed for rain and got more and more wet and eventually, cold and miserable. I missed a great, heavy pull which made me swear rather more than I wanted to on a Sunday. Eventually I thought, "Sod this, I want to stop while it's still fun and we can come back next week". Pete was remarkably chilled about it and didn't try to make me feel like a lightweight. We packed up: it was still only 9.30am. Sometimes a fishing quickie is all you need to see the day in.

a.barbieri@ independent.co.uk