The thing was, he fully expected everyone to believe his incredible fishing stories wholly and despite the clearest evidence against. Even today he is accredited with a 6lb perch caught from an Essex lake in, I think, 1966 – but it is complete row-locks! He regularly caught 6lb tench at a time when a 5lber would win you an Angling Times rod; had a 37lb pike ‘on the last knockings’ when everyone had gone home (so there was no photo) and invented ‘Hannibal’ – the legendary pike he mistook for a tree-trunk and tried to lift from the water before getting a caudal-smack around the chops.
Korky’s tales became more fantastic with every season but still we were clearly expected to receive them without question. As I write, I can see the unflinching seriousness of his face as he told of the previous evening’s catch of two 6lb tench and a 26lb common – an impossible feat from that water at the time, I assure you. You’d search his face for signs of humour; study the cheek area for tongue-activity and half-expect a wink – but no! He was deadly serious! Some of us began to wonder if he truly believed his own stories and that he was clinically delusional and needing help. But he seemed ok in every other respect so everyone just assumed him to be a liar and carried on as usual.
Then, one day during a sizzling July in the early 70s, Korky rolled-up at The Ripples and sat less than 25 yards from my good pal, Tony Corless. It was one of those rare Mediterranean days when a bare chest was necessary by 7am and you wished you’d brought Tizer instead of coffee. Fishing-wise, the day was dead before it started, the sun’s glare bouncing off the still, still water to thwart the float-fisher’s gaze. Both Tony and Korky paced the banks and regularly visited the other’s swim bemoaning the lack of bites; despondency set in and the morning was soon given over to pipe-smoking, sarny-scoffing and general lethargy. Anglers on the opposite side of the bay dozed beneath umbrellas and one actually planted himself waist-deep in the margin to cool-off.
At around one o’clock, Korky rose from his seat and declared it time for a pint and some lunch.
“You off now?” said Tony
“Yeah, that’s enough for me” came the reply. So Tony sat pondering what to do as his elder and better de-tackled and readied himself for the scorching trek around the bay and back to his vehicle.
Before long, Korky’s load was on his back and heading Tony’s way. Korky paused like you do on leaving a pal to more of the same. “I shall be in the Prince of Wales within 20 minutes!” he gleefully informed Tony, “still…not a bad morning I s’pose”
Korky’s words went in one of Tony’s ears and out the other – but then they returned for closer inspection by the young man’s brain. “What? What do you mean?”
“Well…three crucians and a three pound perch ain’t bad for a short session is it” he said, and went on his way without a hint of conscience!
