The end of May saw me and my family take a short break away to the coast; time for fish and chips, a bit of sun, and some much-needed relaxation by the sea. As always, on any trip, I was compelled to sneak some fishing gear in to the car as the beach was literally yards from the front door and it would have been rude not to have a go!

Having never beach fished before, I did a bit of research and bought a few basic bits of tackle to give me a reasonable chance of catching something. Fortunately, on the first day walking along the shore, I met a fisherman who was happy to share some local knowledge on baits and tides, which set me up for a couple of short session over the next few days.

With my son having his nap, and my wife having a rest too, it was time to head over to the beach with my gear and have a dabble, catching it perfectly an hour before low tide so I could get a couple of hours in. My nephew, who is a keen angler, joined me for the session, which was great, and my parents, sister and family, also popped down to visit a couple of times with our house being right on the beach.

I chucked out and waited with no action on the rod except for the gentle lapping of the waves on the mainline. I chatted with my nephew and we stood in anticipation as the sun slowly moved closer to the horizon. Both of us chose to rough it with bare feet, and as it got darker and the temperature was dropping, it was certainly pretty cold on the toes!

The two hours had passed without a single knock, but we had a great time down there enjoying the sea. Just as we were about to pack up my sister brought a towel over for my nephew to clean his feet off (as not to bring a load of sand into the house). While he was toweling his feet off I made the most of the last few minutes of fishing.

All of a sudden the tip banged. I lunged! It went still, then again, another bang! AT LAST! I turned round to let the family know that we were on the cusp of catching something... only to find a wet, sandy towel hitting the butt of the rod as my nephew cleaned his feet.

You could argue that the excitement for the bite was better than not having a bite at all, however a nibble from a sandy towel was not exactly the outcome I was after. My sister and Dad had a good laugh at my expense though, and in hindsight perhaps screaming, ‘I’VE GOT A F****** BITE’ was a bit of an over-reaction!