There I was, sitting in the Trump cogitation room, when I saw it.
Sandwiched between the layers of toilet tissue.
A maturing mayfly nymph.
Despite the calls from my wife to dispatch the insect, I instead went to get my camera, (having first insured that I would not fall head over tea kettle on loosened underwear).
When I returned, it had not moved an inch and posed for a few shots.
So here it is, resplendently posed on the softer than soft bumf; and now fully labelled!
Now, get tying. It won’t be long before this fly’s cousin is attracting the trout.
Or maybe this is just a common silverfish invading my piscatorial dreams.
See you on the river.