Confessions of a book collector

I dare not tell you exactly how many copies of BB's 1950 classic "Confessions of a Carp Fisher" I have in my angling library, but it is quite a number - these photo's are just the tip of the ice berg!

Each copy has a particular story attached to it - the one I take fishing with me, one that belonged to my good friend the Norfolk carp angler and lovely gentleman Dick Kingsley Kefford, one from BB given to me, various reprints and favourite copies and so the list goes on. In a moment of poorness I did part with my prized copy of BB's proof for the second edition, but when you are young and a house renovation needs to be paid for such things do happen.  

I know exactly what it is that grips me with this particular book - a book I am dipping into again on these cold and dark evenings fireside. That is the mark of a good book isn't it? One you return to and one that still stands the test of time after all these years. This book has been a minor obsession of mine since I first read it in the school library in the early 1980's. That was a reprinted copy (1970 edition to be exact) with a contribution by Dick Walker on his record carp capture. That particular book, the very book I read at school is now on my shelf and the copy I always re-read. It formed part of a school library sale a few years later - and so its journey continues. A constant in my life. I thanked BB many times for being that spark at thirteen and I often wonder how many other poor souls have similar stories to my own.

The evocative and descriptive way that BB takes you down long winding lanes to tree girt pools shrouded in mist at dawn struck a chord with me at thirteen and it still does now. The hopes and expectations of a carp that you may be lucky enough to land after it takes your simple bait that you fish for with a float. The shaking hands as a shadow beneath the surface film of the lake comes into view and starts to feed over your bait. You dare not move, you cannot move until the bait is taken and the line stirs - you worry that the fish can feel and hear your beating, thumping heart. The day that stops is day the magic is lost and is the day I stop fishing.

Avon blank

I am not fond of the fishing term "blank" - otherwise known as a blank day, catching nothing or blanking. How can you ever have a blank day? Yes, you may sometimes not catch a fish, but you are always the richer for time spent by running or still waters. 

I didn't catch on this Hampshire Avon trip, but I wasn't just fishing for any old fish. The carp that inhabit my particular stretch are mouth watering beyond belief. All can be quiet and nothing stirs in the crystal clear waters and then suddenly ghosts appear the size of battleships. They home in on the free offerings but there is much in the way of natural food to tempt them, so it doesn't take much for them to move on.

They moved on - my line remained motionless and I was left to enjoy the bird life, hornets and the Spitfire which flew over. Definitely not a blank day. 

I have fished for carp quite often on the Avon and I freely admit that it feels weird. Almost like I shouldn't be doing it, but I just can't help myself. The nearest I guess to my much loved wildies, these king carp have no names, no photographic record from birth and have most likely never been caught before. That's good enough for me.

  

Look up, not down

I had my first proper walk yesterday after being struck down with a bug that just would not go away. A few days ago it was -5 and the fire was continually lit. Yesterday it was positively balmy out of the wind - a glorious winters day with no need for the extra layers.

We live nestled near the top of one hill that forms a pair to the north of the town. Like a glorious pair of breasts they are a delight that guide me back home. There are many like that round here. I have been trying to walk each and every path within a few miles of home and this one came as a complete surprise to the west of the pair.  

It isn't marked or signed it is just there - worn down by years of footfalls. A locals route. Those walking to town or school and in recent times neglected as the pavement offers a more convenient route. Yesterday though, the wind sounded just right as it whispered through the trees. 

I thought of BB's book Brendon Chase (1944) about some small boys who run away to live in the woods. Some of the trees here would have appealed to them. The first bumblebee of the year crossed my path and the bird song was the loudest it has been for weeks. Is something afoot? As a boy when I first met BB he did say on more than one occasion to me - look up not down when out and about. I think of that often. Yesterday was just one of those days. 

Ramblings of a Sportsman Naturalist

BB (DJ Watkins-Pitchford) - by John Gay 1950's

A slice of nice

I had my first date slice from the rather good deli in Cley next the Sea about fifteen years ago. The Captain and I had a winter trip to search out, what was then, a rather unknown corner of the country for us and to also find the spot where BB painted a winter view of the famous Cley Towermill, marshes and River Glaven for me. It was one of the last paintings he ever did, but unbeknown to me at the time it was one of his "regular" pieces which he produced a few times a year for the market. I treasure it and we have been back every year since that first trip. Each year is like an adventure and we cannot imagine a time when we don't do it.

So, this humble date slice is riddled with memories for me - they all come flooding back when I bite into it (usually with a cup of tea). The good thing is The Captain and the nippers don't like them, so I don't end up losing half of it! Disappointingly there was a period when they stopped doing them, but they are well and truly back now. A friend brought me back a little box of them one year, just to keep me going you understand. How lovely is that!

FBR's!

The first FBR's (French Breakfast Radish of course) of the new growing season. They tasted very nice indeed at supper time. I have them growing everywhere such is my radish obsession. I could have left these a little longer, but I don't like them too woody and love the leaves in a salad when they are young - leave too long and they get all prickly. I've got a succession sowing system in place so I can keep on harvesting.

Everything in the garden is coming along nicely now. It's going to be a bumper year for pickling, jamming and preserving here at Straker Towers I can tell you..........the word on the street is it's going to be a bumper berry year too which suits me fine!

The Three Chubs - DJ Watkins-Pitchford (BB 1945) 

I always think of "BB" and radishes. He loved them and was partial to them at breakfast with his ham and eggs. Actually, "BB" was very partial to all sorts of food in general! If you are lucky enough to have a copy of The Fisherman's Bedside Book (Eyre & Spotiswoode 1945) then please turn to his chapter - The Fisherman's Inn - I dream of finding a hostelry such as The Three Chubs......go on, read it now, you'll be glad you did! 

The mermaid's kiss

I always thought glasswort sounded like a good name for a bad gnome in BB's The Little Grey Men. It is of course another name for marsh samphire (Salicornia europaea) - like a breath of summer its season is short which also adds to the mystery. A delicious salty vegetable delicacy that I take great delight in harvesting on the annual family holiday to the North Norfolk coast. Harvesting bare footed through the crust of mud on the marshes it's not only the samphire that is the draw, but the call of curlew and oystercatcher. If you are lucky, as I was, you may spy a peregrine causing havoc among the bluebirds. This will divert your attention, but keep an eye on the flooding tide. 

Picked by hand in the low water gap between the tides it needs a bit of preparation before eating or preserving. Trim to remove any woody stalks and give an almighty wash to remove any flotsam and jetsam.

I like mine pickled - blanch and then fill sterilised jars with the samphire and vinegar. Leave for as long as you can. I like mine as side snack with a pork pie.  

The traditional Norfolk way is as follows: Wash the samphire well in fresh water. Bring to the boil and simmer for about 10 minutes. It is cooked when the fleshy bits slip easily from the stalk. Serve with melted butter or sprinkle with black pepper and vinegar. You eat it by sucking the leaves off the stalks.         

One of the nicest variations I have had is a new one on me - samphire, black pudding and a duck egg on toast. Cook the samphire in the pan after the black pudding, adding more oil - the salty samphire makes a nice alternative to bacon.

Like asparagus, this sea veg season is short. We are at the tail end now, but I have a feeling it may run a bit later this year.

I am going to leave you now in the most capable and lovely hands of Mr Screw Palmer. Picking Samphire at Blakeney in 1961 (Outlook - BBC East, courtesy of the East Anglian Film Archive) a short hop from where mine came from. 

A Happy Christmas with Bill Badger and Izzybizzy

 

 

 

 

 

Bill Badger's Winter Cruise by BB (DJ Watkins-Pitchford - Reindeer Books 1959)

 

 

 

Christmas Cards Part 4

Peaceful and Prosperous - Bernard Venables

Happy and Abundant - Bernard Venables

Christmas Cards Part 3

Christmas Greetings - DJ Watkins-Pitchford

The First Snow, Lochiel's Country - DJ Watkins-Pitchford

Christmas Gathering - DJ Watkins-Pitchford

Christmas Cards Part 2

Happy and Beneficent - Bernard Venables

Festival of Christmas - Bernard Venables

Comfort and Contentment - Bernard Venables

Christmas Cards Part 1

Midwinter in Appin - DJ Watkins-Pitchford

The Rival - DJ Watkins-Pitchford

The Lonely Road - DJ Watkins-Pitchford

 

One of the joys of knowing such lovely people as BB (DJ Watkins-Pitchford) and Bernard Venables was the eager anticipation at Christmas time awaiting the arrival of their card in the post - all kept as most treasured items and a splendid Christmas present in themselves.

 

Over the next few days I will do my best to share a few of them with you and hope you too enjoy them just as much.

 

The Glorious Sixteenth

I'm getting twitchy. I always do around this time as the excitement mounts, eventually hitting boiling point at midnight tomorrow. At that hour the coarse fisherman's Christmas Day will have arrived - the glorious sixteenth will see the traditional coarse fisherman's season begin.

I will be fishing for carp, possibly wild carp with the same friends, at the same mist shrouded pool, same time, same rockets, beer and traditions as I always have done - in this ever busy world I'm so pleased it is the one constant in my life - it never changes and may that always be the case. 

The only fly in the ointment are the fish! They may or may not want to say hello and be admired by us.........that's the fun of it, the expectation - will it be an ancient uncaught monster or a dry net! It doesn't matter. Just being there is enough.

I usually think of BB (DJ Watkins-Pitchford) at the start of the coarse fishing season (especially when carp are the quarry) and will raise my pint glass at some stage to him in appreciation. That's him pictured below with his carp rod and reel - BB was the grandfather of carp fishing in this country.......not as hard nosed as those who came after him, he liked to smell the roses along the way. It was reading his 1950 masterpiece "Confessions of a Carp Fisher" in the school library that got me really hooked on Carp - I doubt the book is still there, but I have BB, Bernard Venables and Oliver Kite all to thank for sending me on a journey of discovery that still excites me today.

If you, like me, will be doing something similar for the glorious sixteenth then I hope your dreams come true and the sun shines on you and that your cane rod creaks with happiness.