Eighty three was a funny old year. I was 14 and enjoying as much time as I could manage playing with bait and tackle by the waters edge at the local lakes, normally after roach and chub as I found them more entertaining than going for the more glamorous pike that were also in the waters.
I didn't keep a big stash of bait and tackle as our village did not include a fishing tackle shop which also meant that bait was reduced as there was nobody selling maggots so we either dug up worms, used bread, luncheon meat or sweet corn as general fare, but also we used to make a strange combination of flour, water and custard powder which was oddly successful.
I also liked to fish with floats rather than ledgers or swim feeders. Looking out on the water, waiting for the tell tale dip as something began moved around the hook rather than watching a quiver at the end of the rod or a foil wrapped round the line by the reel. I enjoyed something much more enjoyable in setting up the bait and tackle to get the drop of the hook sorted so that it was just above the pond bed with the float resting low in the water when it was in the right place.
During that summer, my brother and I went to West Germany (as it was then) as the second leg of an exchange with a German boy called Helmut who turned out to be a right little tick, and his delightful (so where he got it from who can say?) family with whom we were coupled by mutual friends. We journeyed to Munich to start and enjoyed a few days there and then we schlepped up north to stay with the father's aunt who just happened to be a baroness who had her own schloss which came as a marvellous surprise, although we stopped in the staff wing (the baroness didn't have staff and with the size of the place as I remember it, I wonder how she managed).
While there, we would bike to a farm in the morning to fetch the milk directly from the tank and then go to a nearby lake where we learned to water-ski. But also, the schloss still retained part of the moat which was filled with water and the baroness was certain that there was fish in it. Of course we had no idea if there was a fishing tackle shop anywhere nearby, but then the baroness came up trumps as she dug out her own rods, line and everything else we needed. She wasn't able lay hands on a spade or trowel so we made do with something to dig up some worms. So, with bait and tackle dealt with, I spent a jolly afternoon which was made all the more fulfilling when I brought in a couple of carp which the old lady had ordered were for the plate, and not for releasing to the water.
And so I did, I had some type of blunt instrument , gave the fish a hearty dot on the head and gutted them and then handed them to Helmut's mother who cooked them that night and presented them with potatoes and vegetables. And I am here to tell you that they were vile. I do not know why, maybe we should have left them to marinade in water for a day hours as apparently the meat needs to be cleaned, or that was what a friend enlightened me afterwards. But whatever, I do not recommend it, although why freshwater fish would be any less palatable than saltwater I can't imagine. Chub is said to be heavenly and I love trout and salmon. But there, we live and learn. I have seen carp in a fishmonger but somehow I just cannot permit myself to do it. And if I do get the urge,I'd much prefer grab the bait and tackle and catch it and try again myself. But probably not.
20101214
I didn't keep a big stash of bait and tackle as our village did not include a fishing tackle shop which also meant that bait was reduced as there was nobody selling maggots so we either dug up worms, used bread, luncheon meat or sweet corn as general fare, but also we used to make a strange combination of flour, water and custard powder which was oddly successful.
I also liked to fish with floats rather than ledgers or swim feeders. Looking out on the water, waiting for the tell tale dip as something began moved around the hook rather than watching a quiver at the end of the rod or a foil wrapped round the line by the reel. I enjoyed something much more enjoyable in setting up the bait and tackle to get the drop of the hook sorted so that it was just above the pond bed with the float resting low in the water when it was in the right place.
During that summer, my brother and I went to West Germany (as it was then) as the second leg of an exchange with a German boy called Helmut who turned out to be a right little tick, and his delightful (so where he got it from who can say?) family with whom we were coupled by mutual friends. We journeyed to Munich to start and enjoyed a few days there and then we schlepped up north to stay with the father's aunt who just happened to be a baroness who had her own schloss which came as a marvellous surprise, although we stopped in the staff wing (the baroness didn't have staff and with the size of the place as I remember it, I wonder how she managed).
While there, we would bike to a farm in the morning to fetch the milk directly from the tank and then go to a nearby lake where we learned to water-ski. But also, the schloss still retained part of the moat which was filled with water and the baroness was certain that there was fish in it. Of course we had no idea if there was a fishing tackle shop anywhere nearby, but then the baroness came up trumps as she dug out her own rods, line and everything else we needed. She wasn't able lay hands on a spade or trowel so we made do with something to dig up some worms. So, with bait and tackle dealt with, I spent a jolly afternoon which was made all the more fulfilling when I brought in a couple of carp which the old lady had ordered were for the plate, and not for releasing to the water.
And so I did, I had some type of blunt instrument , gave the fish a hearty dot on the head and gutted them and then handed them to Helmut's mother who cooked them that night and presented them with potatoes and vegetables. And I am here to tell you that they were vile. I do not know why, maybe we should have left them to marinade in water for a day hours as apparently the meat needs to be cleaned, or that was what a friend enlightened me afterwards. But whatever, I do not recommend it, although why freshwater fish would be any less palatable than saltwater I can't imagine. Chub is said to be heavenly and I love trout and salmon. But there, we live and learn. I have seen carp in a fishmonger but somehow I just cannot permit myself to do it. And if I do get the urge,I'd much prefer grab the bait and tackle and catch it and try again myself. But probably not.
20101214
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