| KEVIN PERKINS | |
Never mind smelling the flowers, don’t forget to take time out to see the satirical side of fishing life and grab a laugh along the way as well. So here’s a regular column from Kevin Perkins to remind us that life is for laughing at, or taking the p*** out of, whenever we can. |
| GOING CLUBBING? Lots of talk about Fishing Clubs recently on FM and in the various angling papers. I will confess that I haven’t had many dealings with clubs over the years. As a junior, I did join the local club, not for the vast range of waters they controlled, being as they had the local municipal park pond and one hundred yards of a tributary of a trout stream. To be fair to them, that was just about all there was where I used to live. The park pond was the usual ornamental affair, which contained the normal selection of aquatic species such as sticklebacks, newts and the occasional ‘released to the wild on the way home from the funfair’ goldfish. The ‘trout stream’ was at best four feet wide, and if you strayed beyond the boundary, soft parts of your anatomy would be removed with a rusty saw, which was the standard penalty for poaching at the time. No, the reason for joining the club was they allowed juniors to go to matches, which were always fished ‘away’, as we never had any ‘home’ matches. Can’t think why! We never caught anything, but I remember we did get taken to far away exotic places, such as the canal at Denham, some backwater the other side of Oxford, and the River Thames at Datchet. The acquisition of a pushbike brought stretches of the Grand Union canal within striking range, and it seemed all the best bits nearest to me were controlled by the LAA. For two seasons I was a proud member who fished those swims alone, never caught anything of note, and never saw a bailiff. I used to pore through the membership book during periods of inaction (just about all the time!) and dream about all those other LAA waters that I could be fishing. A move of home brought me nearer to the Thames, so my brother in law and I sought out a club on the river. Application for membership was obtained by throwing yourself on the mercy of the committee. This involved sitting in front of them whilst you were interrogated for twenty minutes as to why you wanted to join, and then you waited (still sat in front of them) while your application was discussed! Having been grilled and accepted (after proposal and seconding), next up for membership was my brother in law. First question was do you know anyone in the club who can second your application. He, of course, was able to give my name, so his application went through on the nod! Another change of home brought me into the catchment area of the (then) mighty BAA. A club book was soon acquired, a weighty tome listing more places than one person could fish in a season. Except you couldn’t, because the accompanying list of waters booked for matches took most of the venues out of contention! After this, and in desperation, I will bare my soul and openly admit I joined a syndicate. This was fine for a couple of seasons, but the waters involved were not ‘unique ‘ to the syndicate members. We were allowed to night fish, so this usually meant sitting behind someone until they decided to vacate the swim. Just what time is ‘one hour after sunset?’ Usually meant pitch dark by the time they had finally buggered off – and why did we always have the ones that take two hours to pack up. Everything put neatly away, hooks packed in rig wallets, reels put in cases, rod rests rinsed at the water’s edge and wiped dry before going in the rod bag, uneaten sandwiches fed to the ducks – you know the sort! And perhaps it’s just me, but syndicate fishing seems a bit like having a time-share holiday home, you have to go to the same place all the time because you paid so much for it. When I go on holiday I go to a place once and cross it off the list! (Yes, yes, most places won’t have me back, I know, even got escorted to the Isle of Wight ferry by the police!) Close to home now, my ‘local’ club has an impressive amount of waters to fish, rivers, streams, lakes and canal, again, more than you could fish in a season. I wonder if they shouldn’t offer a ‘personalising service’ where you are able to just fish the waters you want off the club book at a reduced rate? Sort of perm any eight from twelve. This local club also has around twenty or so clubs ‘affiliated’ to them, some of which have no waters of their own. I suspect they are probably match-fishing groups who are too poor to afford waters of their own. After all they never seem to have the funds to buy rod licences when checks are done. Can’t be much money left to run your own club after buying £ 2000 poles, £ 500 seat boxes, bait, match fees, etc, etc. I was going to start my own exclusive angling club, something along the line of the “Outer Hebrides Barbel Fishers”, and affiliate to any clubs with interests on the Great Ouse, Severn, Test, Trent, Dove, Hampshire Avon etc. etc. But then again, as one famous wag once said, ”I wouldn’t want to be in any club that would have me as a member!” Kevin is on holiday next week. God help ’em! – Graham |
