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I would have been around ten or eleven years old when my father first described to me a rather grizzly stage act he had seen as a young man at the Hackney Empire theatre in East London. He told me as we watched our floats of a wiry, dark-haired Dutchman who would, among other things, push a very real three foot sword into his side, right through his body, and out the other.

My very, very first memories of fishing were with my Grandad and I guess I must have been around six years old at the time (1948). My Dad had a Great Aunt who lived in Petworth in Sussex and on one visit my Grandad got permission to fish the lake in Petworth House. I went and sat with him and saw him catch an eel and from that moment on I was hooked, so to speak

My love affair with the Cambridge and Norfolk Fens began many years ago and I've spent many hours and days seeking out a monster. Sadly it's never happened for me; however I have put some mates onto the odd biggie, including a 31lb pike on a venue I had fished for 20 odd years and never had a 30 from it - or anywhere else for that matter!

Not so much an epitaph, more my own personal tribute to Fred Buller, first published on FM over 10 years ago, but the sentiment remains the same, RIP Fred, and thanks for everything...

A Fenland Piker's Tale My love affair with the Cambridge and Norfolk Fens began many years ago and I've spent many hours, days seeking out...

Just after the Second World War, with rationing still firmly in place, trading any extra food you grew or caught was near necessity. A youth known in his Nottinghamshire village as Young Charlie understood this well. Young Charlie could often be found at the Burnell Arms, trading the trout and eels he'd plucked from local streams for ration stamps.

Ecstasy for some is the silent speed of a warm 4 x 4. For some it's being laid-out in front of the television. For others it's a long Sunday lie-in - with or without the missus.

When you're comfortably sat back and keeping an eye on your pike floats you've no way of knowing exactly what's going on beneath the surface. All the time your floats remain static or unchanged the assumption is that nothing is currently interested - but this can be far from the truth!

With one eye on a day with Graham Elliott on the Wye, Andy Scholey admits to learning a lesson from his better half, Sue.

No bivvies here...no buzzers, no big-pits, no on-site tackle-shop. Read Altamash Kabir's intriguing tale of mystery and tragedy at Deola's Pool...