Originally, the plan was simple. I was meant to meet up with my mate, who’d finally secured a place on my syndicate after being on the waiting list for what felt like forever. We'd been planning it for weeks, talking tactics, swim choices, and baiting strategies. You know how it is — the kind of excitement that builds up when two mates finally get the green light to fish together.Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately depending on how you look at it, life threw him a curveball. He got the call he had been waiting for even longer than his syndicate ticket: a hospital appointment. It was due the next afternoon. No brainer, really. Health always comes first, well above fishing. We both knew that. Still, it left me sitting there, rods in the garage, bait prepped, weekend plans suddenly wide open.After a quick cup of tea and a bit of pacing about, I decided to message the wife. I explained the situation — that I had a rare window opening up — and asked, as nicely as possible, if it was alright for me to slip out that afternoon and give myself a proper session. A couple of nights on the bank sounded like heaven, especially knowing that a couple of busy weeks in May would mean I wouldn’t get another chance for a while.Tight lines and be lucky!