Clocks went forward today.  Had a fishing match to go to at Aberaman breakwater - meet up at Whitehills at 7-30am, which is really 6-30am.  Only one car there when I arrived; another car turned up later. Nine of us fished the match, not bad to say there was an hour loss.  Nice venue.  When we got there, the tide was still low, and there were a lot of huge boulders exposed on the one side, and on the sea side, huge man made concrete blocks made a challenging place to fish.  I chose to fish over the boulders.  It was not a good decision.  When the locals started to turn up, they all fished over the concrete strucures, and seemed to manage ok.  I caught lots of small whiting.  It was almost a fish a chuck- until the worm ran out.  The sand eel brought plenty of bites, but not as many fish.  The boys fishing over the concrete were catching dog fish, and it was a big doggie that eventually won the match.  High tide was noon and the fishing went quiet, picking up again an hour later.  I could have swapped onto the concrete, but there was a very strong wind blowing; fishing was difficult enough without adding complications.  The match ended at 14-15.  The journey home took about half an hour.  I tidied Keith's box out, put the gear away and enjoyed a hot shower.  The wind really dried my skin out, and I had stiff thighs and aching knees from all the up and down work involved in  fishing.  I sat down in front of the telly with achicken leg and a bottle of beer and immediately fell asleep for an hour.  It's good to have the light nights back again.  Suki and I went for a walk, up past the cemetery, across the field, down to the river, and back through the bottom field before returning home via Hunter's Gate.  The talk in radio programme I listened to was all about the England farce the previous evening.  0-0.  How could they?   And against poor opposition.  The listners were in no doubt about how to blame - just about anybody and everybody attached to the England set - up; and I have to agree with them.  They've got to do better now on Wednesday evening or it's curtain down time.  Lots of calls about the new Wembley Stadium; mostly complementary except the price of the food.  £8.50 for fish and chips; well, more fools them for paying it, though it's difficult if you have kids with you.  Monday tomorrow and back to work.  I just don't look forward to it anymore.  Think I'll write to ... well who the hell do I write to, to tell them I'm not happy?  I intend ringing Redwoods tomorrow, maybe they'll have an idea of the market for Sub Post Offices.  Soon be the diving season.  Suppose they'll be talking about towing the boats to  West Wales when we meet tomorrow.