My attempt at fishing
I remembered this small event in my life while writing the one about my father and fishing off the wall with "bottomless" pool on one side and a railway line, way, way down on the other. By this time, however, I was married, living in Shrewsbury, and the happening took place in Little Dawley, so, really, had nowhere, on this website, to write it.
I thought, in the end, that I would add it to the Ironbridge section as I didn't want to create another one on Little Dawley, where I had never lived.
In 1964, I took a week off work (it was official, I didn't cheat, didn't throw a sickie!) but Maureen was unable to do the same so, on one of the days of my holiday, I went down to my parent's house in Little Dawley to stay for a few hours. It was a lovely day, and I thought of going fishing - I don't know why I did that, I don't particularly like fishing and I'm no good at it, anyway but I did more that think about it, I, actually, went fishing!
My father was at work, so I borrowed his fishing rod, which was, probably, my biggest mistake as that had never been any threat to any fish! I made some bait though I have no idea what it was - probably just bread and water moulded into a thick, glutinous paste (whatever made me think that fish would want to eat that, I have no idea, but it seemed the right thing to do at the time!).
I then set off the "Wide Waters" down the bottom of the estate where my mother lived. People who live in the area will know where I mean and those who don't, won't - I suppose that was obvious, really, but I thought I'd mention it!
Down the hill I went and, within a few minutes, arrived at the side of largest pond. There I sat and prepared to do battle with the fishy population - I didn't, really, care what I caught as long as I beat my father's score of zero, which was not a lot to ask.
I assembled the rod, fitted all the right bits to it, baited the hook, cast my line out and waited, watching the float - which seems to be a lot of what fishing is all about. Especially when you find fishermen who throw the catch back; that. I never did understand. If you can't eat it, why catch it? It's just a waste of a good day and the fish have other things to do, like ....., well, I suppose it does break their day up a bit.
After about half-an hour, I, of course, as usual, had caught nothing but the day was warm, sunny, and apart from the sound of bees and the other unknown noises you hear on a summer's day around a pond, there was no noise - traffic, people I was thinking of. I sat there, pleasantly relaxing, and, even began to enjoy just watching the float, well er..., floating, I suppose - that's what floats do best. It, apparently, takes years to train them, so I've been told.
In the quietness, I was beginning to doze, when I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, a man appear, complete with fishing gear, and walk around to a point just about twenty feet away from me. He unloaded his seat and the rest of his equipment, sat down, connected his rod together, baited his hook, cast out, and paused before pulling out a small fish. Okay, it was small but it was a fish and I'd have given my eye-teeth, as they say, to have pulled one out that size.
He continued, just as he had begun, throwing his line out and, within seconds, pulling it in, together with a small fish on the end. I began to think that, in the area where he was, the fish had either become suicidal or he was some sort of magician. Perhaps, like "Alice in Wonderland", I had fallen asleep and he was all in my imagination.
Totally engaged, I watched him doing this, in pure wonder and absolute jealousy, for, it could have been no more than, a quarter of an hour, by which time he had caught at least a dozen small fish.
I could stand it no longer; I had to find out how he did it - so, I walked, slowly, over to him, and said, "Caught any fish, lately?" I'm a great conversationalist, some times, but this wasn't one of those times.
He looked up at me and laughed and through this we got into conversation.
It turned out he wasn't, really, after the small fish (about six inches from nose to tail) but only wanted them for bait - he was out to get a large pike that he knew was there, in the pond, somewhere.
It turned out that he had, apparently, caught enough small fish for his purpose and asked me if I'd like the rest of the bait he'd been using and would I like to sit where he'd sat. You bet your boots, I wanted to!
Here was a chance to show my dad that I could catch fish, and, no matter how small they were, they were fish - and I could exaggerate a bit as I was going to put these back, anyway!
I thanked him and, as he walked off to a spot somewhere over on the other side of the pond, hurriedly collected all my things together, and carried them over to this magic spot.
It took very little time to get started again, and I watched and waited....and I watched and waited.
He'd either caught all the fish in the pond or, in the fishy world, word had got around about who was on the land-side of the rod.
I sat there for about half-an-hour and not one fish even attempted to nibble my/his bait - the magic had gone. Luckily for me, he was out of sight and before he could come back to ask any embarrassing questions, I packed up and went back to my mother's.
She asked me how things had gone and I told her the story, to which she replied, laughing, that I, obviously, took after my father.
I left to go home before my father returned from work, as I didn't want to hear his comments. I assume that my mother told him but it was never discussed and I was happy to leave it that way.
When Maureen returned, I told her the story and she replied, laughing, that I, obviously, took after my father.
Women are so predictable, and, it seems, telepathic!
Since, then, I have been fishing a few times over the years, when, on several occasions, I was persuaded to cast my line into the sea, off the harbour arm - always with the same lack of result.
I went with some friends, last year, who were good at fishing and who told me of what they had caught in the previous weeks. My eyes opened wide and my jaw dropped, so off I went with them, full of confidence and trying to decide how I would cook the abundance from the sea that I was certain would come my way. I had cracked it! I would become a fisherman that day!
The result was that I didn't catch anything and neither did they, on any of following occasions that I went with them.
Does anyone know how to get out a float, tightly jammed into a left ear?
I'm going to try shrimping, later in the year - that can't be all that difficult.
