Winding the Clock Back ... and back...and back ...
Posted: January 15th, 2012, 10:47 pm
Dad started me off, on the Bham Worcs cut, between Lifford Drawbridge and the Brandwood Tunnel.
We used to walk there on Sunday afternoons, sometimes I’d be on the crossbar of his bike.
I really loved it there. Shared his tackle, and after a while had my own rod to carry. Very grown up and important I was with that.
We used to catch roach, just past the nearside weed beds. Or sometimes we didn’t.
I loved the smell of the cut, especially as we approached. Not reeking, just bloody gorgeous.
Canals don’t smell like that to me now, anywhere.
On days when it was really tough, he’d hook one on for me when I wasn’t looking or had been tricked into distraction.
As times moved on we afforded a brolly and I’d share his basket underneath if it tipped it down.
Posh eh.
It was the stories that really hooked me though. Tales of how big the fish were in the canal as walked to our pegs. All kids should have that.
Bream ‘as big as dustbin lids’ he used to say. And roach as big as ‘that’. Wow.
Dreams that made an angler for life.
With Sunday afternoons being the best time for a chance of fishing, I became a bit tiresome. Nagging him to take me.
Watching through the window for the weather. Rain was a disaster.
He wasn’t as keen as me and often preferred to watch the black and white Sunday afternoon films, but I was longing for the end credits, to have another go.
Mom wasn’t keen on us going and that didn’t help. But when you want it bad, you want it bad and I often kept on too much.
A common get out for him was “we’ve got no maggots” so I took to buying some on the way home from school and hiding them in the coal shed.
Only got me in more trouble, and facing the question of how I’d got the money.
Even more trouble came from explaining how I’d walked home all week to save the bus fare.
Got away with it once or twice but after that, they weren’t best pleased.
On summer evenings, if we’d got the money, we’d buy crisps from the off licence in Brandwood Road, returning home in the dark.
It seemed such a treat and they tasted much better than at any other time.
Walkers ready salted.
(Circa 1960's)
We used to walk there on Sunday afternoons, sometimes I’d be on the crossbar of his bike.
I really loved it there. Shared his tackle, and after a while had my own rod to carry. Very grown up and important I was with that.
We used to catch roach, just past the nearside weed beds. Or sometimes we didn’t.
I loved the smell of the cut, especially as we approached. Not reeking, just bloody gorgeous.
Canals don’t smell like that to me now, anywhere.
On days when it was really tough, he’d hook one on for me when I wasn’t looking or had been tricked into distraction.
As times moved on we afforded a brolly and I’d share his basket underneath if it tipped it down.
Posh eh.
It was the stories that really hooked me though. Tales of how big the fish were in the canal as walked to our pegs. All kids should have that.
Bream ‘as big as dustbin lids’ he used to say. And roach as big as ‘that’. Wow.
Dreams that made an angler for life.
With Sunday afternoons being the best time for a chance of fishing, I became a bit tiresome. Nagging him to take me.
Watching through the window for the weather. Rain was a disaster.
He wasn’t as keen as me and often preferred to watch the black and white Sunday afternoon films, but I was longing for the end credits, to have another go.
Mom wasn’t keen on us going and that didn’t help. But when you want it bad, you want it bad and I often kept on too much.
A common get out for him was “we’ve got no maggots” so I took to buying some on the way home from school and hiding them in the coal shed.
Only got me in more trouble, and facing the question of how I’d got the money.
Even more trouble came from explaining how I’d walked home all week to save the bus fare.
Got away with it once or twice but after that, they weren’t best pleased.
On summer evenings, if we’d got the money, we’d buy crisps from the off licence in Brandwood Road, returning home in the dark.
It seemed such a treat and they tasted much better than at any other time.
Walkers ready salted.
(Circa 1960's)
..... The bites from this set up were fantastic , little dinks followed by the float sitting upright then sailing away. Between us we caught around a dozen carp 4lb to 6lb and around 8 to 10 lb and lots of big bream over a couple seasons "sessions"........ fabulous exciting fishing you would never experience during daylight hours and best of all the excitement before and during each trip was something i will never forget.
