The morning finally dawned. I had spent a lovely evening with Ed and his American girlfriend at the Crispin Inn in Ashover eating African Ostrich! The little Victorian Reservoir at Press Manor was alive with trout – head and tailing fish proclaiming that they were at last on buzzers and fish would be caught. Not with ‘dead budgies’ either but with a proper imitative approach. And so it proved. On this day, our gallant team of fly-fishers were angling for a magnificent trophy. An engraved cut glass cup, given by the kind people at Magicalia (FM’s parent company) in memory of Andy Wright – master fly dresser who had instructed and entertained us with his skill at the 2004 Fish-in and who had recently passed away. At a later stage in the day, Andy’s Widow Sue, his father, his brother and sister-in-law also joined us for lunch.
After an interesting morning’s fishing where it was obvious that a certain member of our group was using decrepit gear and had to have a loan of my reel, line and Graham’s rod, we made our way to The Three Horseshoes for lunch. It was just after the lunch that I decided to experiment with a rather high-tech device I had received from my son recently as a birthday present. Suddenly, from where Barney was sitting, during a lull in the conversation, a series of vile and odious reports rent the jolly ambience of the dining room of the Three Horseshoes!
You should have seen the faces of the people sitting close by; and you should have heard the jolly peals of laughter when they realised what was causing it and who was pressing the remote button. Back to the fishery and into the caravan where I tied a few of my killing patterns. Nothing like as good as Andy’s of course but they do catch fish. All I wanted to prove was that you don’t require the skills required to win fly tying competitions to dress killing patterns. And then it was back to the fishing. It didn’t take long for us to realize that this was now a two horse race. By about 6-00 pm there were only two people in it, Neil Thomas and Barney Knowles who was fishing with borrowed flies and tackle of course. They both had 10 fish each. It was now getting late. I decided to call time at 7-30. Suddenly Barney let out a yell of triumph. Shortly after that, in came the winning fish and we called it a day.
Seriously, our Gary probably did deserve to win due to the intense effort and determination he put into his fishing, even though he was using borrowed tackle. And more than that, it proved as I originally thought that nymphs and buzzers will generally out-fish ‘dead budgies’ on most waters. As a footnote, I decided to have a crafty cast myself during the last hour. The result was me hooking what would have been the biggest fish of the day. A over-wintered rainbow of about 5 lbs that took 50 yards of backing and jumped three foot into the air. But it got off as Brian the bailiff was about to net it. Many thanks to Bernie Maher for allowing us to use his fishery for the event. It was interesting to see Vince Gwillym at the fishery. Vince is one of Britain’s great fly fishers and one time captain of the Welsh Fly fishing team.
Graham’s Bit As soon as he opened the tailgate of his motor I knew what the ‘treat’ was, for a dense cloud of curry flavoured methane gas struggled to rise in the cold air. “Tee hee,” Barney chuckled, “had a curry last night and I’m on top form.” Oh joy, I thought, what a delightful journey I’m in for. And sure enough, all the way there (and, let me add, all the way back) I was ‘treated’ to odorous raspers and vivid descriptions of, “mmmmmmm, that was the poppadoms,” and “agh, here comes the madras.” All the time me winding the window down and going blue in the face from holding my breath. As you’ve read in Ron’s report above he set him up in the pub at lunchtime by fixing a remote controlled Fart Machine under his chair. The trouble was, those of us who know Barney well were only wondering how he could fart every few seconds rather than every few minutes, and why they didn’t carry the usual stomach churning stench. Of course though, old Barney was slipping in a real rasper between the electronic ones, so we were all kept guessing for a while.
It didn’t help when Ed’s lady, Bev, told him he looked like James Bond, making us all wonder which movie she’d seen, because it couldn’t have been any of the ones on the mainstream cinema circuit. And there were many choruses of “James Bond? More like Basildon Bond,” and, due to his shorn head, ‘Boilie Head’, Pop-Up’, and other compliments. The fishing? That was good too, with most people catching one or two fish and a few of us having half a dozen or so. Naturally, Barney is expecting me to take the mick here and say how lucky he was, but fair play, he fished well, deserved what he caught, and was a worthy winner of the first FM fly fishing trophy. It was great to see some new faces and those we met last year. Nice to catch up with old friend Paul ‘Brummie’ Williams, who’s back on the rod, although these days it’s either a fly rod or a lure rod in his hand. I just wish I hadn’t had to travel all the way home with Barney, listening to how great he is, how handsome he is, just like 007, and all the while me hanging out of the window fighting for breath. One thing’s for sure, he was well stirred, and I was well shaken. Bloody good day though, and all thanks to Ron for organising it and doing the fly tying demo. And although the day was tinged with sadness due to Andy not being there, we knew he would have approved of all the laughter. It was nice to see Andy’s widow Sue there and his dad, brother and sister-in-law, enjoying the day in their own way. And they were very pleased with the trophy that is in memory of Andy. And the real truth about me and Barney is that we laughed tears all the way home as we told stories that just can’t be repeated; not in this story anyhow. |
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