It was that b*****d, Coley, on the other end, reporting, drunk as a sack, that he had spent the day on the Lea, and in a long, tantalizing story, told me that soon after setting-up he had a small barbel of 4lbs or so, but that later he hooked a very big fish and lost it after a very long fight. “Definitely a double” he said, “sick as an effing pig” he was, he said. “Mind you” he continued, “I was well pleased with the eight and a half pounder that I caught in the afternoon”
Now bear in mind that he took ten minutes to get this far in his story, filling in with grand detail method, swim, bait, weather etc. but I could tell he was in a heightened, elevated mood, really buzzing and that there was more to come. Still he drew out the story and then added “Mind you, not half as pleased as I was with the TWELVE AND THREE QUARTER POUND fish I had around 1pm!
Jesus! I’ve only ever heard of one bigger Lea fish – a real monster, eh?
We went out to dinner with the usual crowd last Saturday and he was still crawling around the ceiling all night. I think his old woman is considering divorce as she had to sit and listen to him recount the moment of capture for the umpteenth time. Well, he showed me the photos and it is a very impressive fish to look at – heavy of shoulder and big of tit – so to speak. Funny thing is, he was only bemoaning the fact that although he had caught plenty of nice fish in his time he had never had a real big ‘un. Well, now he’s cracked it and I’m very pleased for him; especially pleasing was that he got it on his fifty year-old ‘Flick ‘em’ centre-pin a la Crabtree. See the section on The Royalty in Mr Crabtree Goes Fishing, detail perfect in the drawing, down to the last rivet.
Well it’s nine-thirty on Monday evening as I write and I’m feeling particularly shagged after a busy day and a particularly long weekend doing my bit for Henry Ford. I’d give my right arm to be ensconced in a favourite swim on a Wessex river waiting for the rod top to collapse in its inimitable fashion; wouldn’t even matter much if it didn’t – just being there would do at the moment. Still, I’ve only got the rest of this week to see out and me and the old tart are off to Turkey with Coley and his missus for a holiday on a gullet – that’s a big, wooden sailing boat if you didn’t know (I didn’t) Should be a good giggle if only I can stop Coley talking about his ****ing barbel. Of course, I shall be taking my telescopic rods to have a chuck.
Me and The Whinger have got to go down to Kent tomorrow night to collect a consignment of 500 rainbow trout for this winter’s campaign. I took yet another bait tank that I acquired recently round to his house on the way home from work today to keep them in. You ought to see his back garden – It looks like a ****ing fish farm! Tanks, ponds and aerators all over the place, still it’s just as well as my own tanks are full of hardcore from all the building work I’ve been doing recently and I’ll be able to bollock him if any go over which’ll make him retain his usual sour-faced look.
I’m really getting horny about the coming Winter’s fishing, but then I think I always have. I love the long, dark journeys in the early hours to distant waters, buzzing with anticipation and excited chatter. Mind you, the journey home is a bit different…i.e. from The Whinger “Why have I got to ****ing drive again you ****ing lazy b******s?” This is usually answered by a noise like the interior of a bee-hive as we often pretend – and often do – nod off to sleep; funny thing is though we all wake up as if by magic a hundred and twenty miles later as he pulls into the car park of our usual watering hole to dissect the day’s fishing over a few glasses of grog before wending our weary ways home. Jesus! I’ve almost got a **** ** just thinking about it!
Nice to hear about your big redfin in your last letter: what size hooks do you use in a bait like that?
No, seriously, I won’t use roach over a pound myself, I’ve got my standards, mate. That was bloody nasty wasn’t it? Can’t help it though, I’m getting really wound-up to go. I’ll start ‘Angling in Earnest’ when I get back from Turkey…can’t wait. I really wish I wasn’t going to be honest, but we all have our crosses to bear don’t we?
Keep in touch, and tight lines,
PS: This was only meant to be a few lines to tell you about Coley’s fish but my pen is nearly as big as my ****ing mouth!
