It's not just fishermen who pile on pounds

Naturally, your columnist retained his usual lithesome profile of a racing snake but I suspect that there is a lot of strained elastic across Yorkshire. What did the most damage? Was it the Christmas pud, the fruit cake or the chocolates? I cannot imagine for one moment that any reader touched a glass of anything stronger than dandelion and burdock, so that cannot be blamed. Mind you, there are more calories in a pint of lemonade than in a pint of bitter, so if you are weight watching, choose your beverages carefully.

How many resolutions are there, dear readers, concerning the loss of this extra weight?

The reason why I raise all these issues is because, come winter, fish behave in much the same way as we do at Christmas. I'm not trying to tell you that trout eat a lot of mince pies, but they do work hard to pack on weight.

Every autumn, the big rainbow trout at Lockwood fishery know that winter is approaching and that they need to fatten up. Clever people would say that fish are poikilothermic, I'll stick to cold-blooded. The bottom line is that they need energy to maintain their metabolism, which they cannot waste by chasing food. So, they need to build themselves up before the temperature plummets.

Luckily, the coarse fish fry in the reservoir are precisely the right size for trout food at exactly the right time. On some autumn days, small groups of huge trout were seen herding fry into the bays before a co-ordinated attack. At other times, shoals of small roach would erupt from the water as an unseen marauder lunged from below. For the angler, these big fish are real prize. For the fly fisher, one of the finest imitations of a small fish is the Minkie. Look at Steve's version; that long wing extending beyond the hook bend is made from mink fur. If Aunt Gladys has a fur coat, she will never notice a few bits sliced off the bottom – honest!

John is one of the finest anglers that I have ever met; he is one of Lockwood's regulars. The only cautious criticism that I would ever whisper is his tendency to attach too little backing on his reel. One October afternoon, John, casting a Minkie from the dam wall suddenly found himself attached to a very large angry trout.

Fly line and backing were disappearing rapidly in the wake of an impressive bow-wave. As the last few feet of backing line hissed through the rod rings, John set off at a run along the bank, trying to gain some ground.

At this point, the fish decided to make a slight detour and headed for the boat jetty. Under one side it went, and out the other. Our hero, showing a nifty pace, was soon sprinting onto the jetty, hanging onto his rod for dear life. Flat on his face, he shoved the rod under the water at the north side of the jetty, did a kind of roll and collected it from the south side.

A valiant effort, but with no more backing on the reel, and the fish gathering speed, the inevitable happened. The hook straightened under the strain and the monster continued on its mission.

John was distraught, but as a consolation, we have entered him for the 2012 Olympics. Whether it is for the 100 metres sprint or mince pie eating, the jury is still out.

Flies dressed by Stephen Cheetham. 0113 2507244. www.fishingwith style.co.uk