Thursday, 22 November 2012
Thursday, 8 November 2012
Walker's Pitch
A real treat for all you followers of Dick Walker - I found this by chance when looking for another castaway on BBC Radio 4's Desert Island Discs.
Dick Walker was Roy Plomley's castaway on Saturday 6th July 1974 - I am sure Dick would have been happier being interviewed by Kirsty Young! The programme was devised by Plomley and I was amazed to hear he presented it until 1985. I have been a regular listener and the only sour period was when the odious Sue Lawley presented for a few years.
Many anglers of the old guard idolised Dick - he was thought of as the father of modern carp angling and specimen hunting in general. He was a true all-rounder though. Just as happy casting a fly and I think in later life he prefered still water trout fishing. His angling feats were truly remarkable and he will always be remembered for the capture of the once record carp at 44lbs from Redmire Pool in 1952 - Dick neglected to tell Plomley that the fish spent the rest of its days in London Zoo after capture. I always preferred those who smelt the roses a bit more along the way such as Venables, Ingham and BB, but Dick was certainly a pioneer and prolific at that.
Of all his books I think No Need to Lie (Unwin 1964) is my favourite - probably for the lovely Reg Cooke illustrations which are luscious and atmospheric. When I bought this book, as a young lad, from a second hand book dealer in the early 1980's it really felt like treasure - I couldn't put it down and regularly pull it from the shelf today.
As a schoolboy reading his magazine articles I seem to recall I was quite fascinated by his hats. He was a regular hat wearer on the bank and the trilby was my favourite Walker hat. It is mentioned and illustrated in No Need to Lie - a magic hat indeed!
Anyway, I hope you enjoy this broadcast as much as I did - he had a lovely voice did Dick, excellent at mimicking country dialects and I thought his record choices were interesting.
The highlight for me has to be Bernard Miles with one of his Old Charlie monologues.........think Stanley Holloway and Brown Boots - splendid stuff.
Dick Walker was Roy Plomley's castaway on Saturday 6th July 1974 - I am sure Dick would have been happier being interviewed by Kirsty Young! The programme was devised by Plomley and I was amazed to hear he presented it until 1985. I have been a regular listener and the only sour period was when the odious Sue Lawley presented for a few years.
Many anglers of the old guard idolised Dick - he was thought of as the father of modern carp angling and specimen hunting in general. He was a true all-rounder though. Just as happy casting a fly and I think in later life he prefered still water trout fishing. His angling feats were truly remarkable and he will always be remembered for the capture of the once record carp at 44lbs from Redmire Pool in 1952 - Dick neglected to tell Plomley that the fish spent the rest of its days in London Zoo after capture. I always preferred those who smelt the roses a bit more along the way such as Venables, Ingham and BB, but Dick was certainly a pioneer and prolific at that.
Of all his books I think No Need to Lie (Unwin 1964) is my favourite - probably for the lovely Reg Cooke illustrations which are luscious and atmospheric. When I bought this book, as a young lad, from a second hand book dealer in the early 1980's it really felt like treasure - I couldn't put it down and regularly pull it from the shelf today.
As a schoolboy reading his magazine articles I seem to recall I was quite fascinated by his hats. He was a regular hat wearer on the bank and the trilby was my favourite Walker hat. It is mentioned and illustrated in No Need to Lie - a magic hat indeed!
Anyway, I hope you enjoy this broadcast as much as I did - he had a lovely voice did Dick, excellent at mimicking country dialects and I thought his record choices were interesting.
The highlight for me has to be Bernard Miles with one of his Old Charlie monologues.........think Stanley Holloway and Brown Boots - splendid stuff.
Tuesday, 6 November 2012
Goodbye light, hello dark
We had a late celebration to see in the dark part of the year at the family orchard in Gloucestershire - a few days after Samhain, but who cares, it was our way of celebrating what we have and to give thanks to what we have lost.
I guess the influence of the modern world has had an effect on many customs that until fairly recently were celebrated by many country folk. They are still celebrated, but many with a twist - pumpkins are now used as lanterns instead of a turnip, children no longer perform a traditional song or dance at Halloween, a shout of trick or treat is enough for a gift which is expected. Coal dust on the face to help blend with the spirits has now been replaced by bright and ghoulish fancy dress. At this time of year I also look forward to the Mummers plays around Christmas and the Twelfth Night wassail.
The apple is always associated with this time of year for me - the annual harvest of Ashmead's Kernel would take place in early November and these delicious dessert apples would see us through the dark days.
This year the crop has been dire - all varieties have suffered. The seasons have been completely arse about face, we drove through snow as we dropped back down into Dorset and on our way north we were lucky enough to see the finest rainbows ever. Those apples we did harvest will keep us going for a short time at least. We spotted one lone apple blossom - It drew our eyes to it like a beacon and was taken as a good sign for the months ahead.
We built a fire using apple wood, made a den, harvested apples, lit fireworks, ate and drank before the heavens opened. We had time to stare into the dying embers away with our thoughts and look forward to the winter ahead.
I guess the influence of the modern world has had an effect on many customs that until fairly recently were celebrated by many country folk. They are still celebrated, but many with a twist - pumpkins are now used as lanterns instead of a turnip, children no longer perform a traditional song or dance at Halloween, a shout of trick or treat is enough for a gift which is expected. Coal dust on the face to help blend with the spirits has now been replaced by bright and ghoulish fancy dress. At this time of year I also look forward to the Mummers plays around Christmas and the Twelfth Night wassail.
The apple is always associated with this time of year for me - the annual harvest of Ashmead's Kernel would take place in early November and these delicious dessert apples would see us through the dark days.
Monday, 5 November 2012
Market Finds No 4
Hardly a vintage find, but who could resist a tube of finest Scandinavian lubricant? I can hear my Allcock Sea Aerial and Hardy Altex purr with delight at the thought of a generous dollop.....................for the princely some of fifty new pence, and it's full!
Friday, 19 October 2012
The Witchery of Water
Far from the bondage of bricks and mortar, far from the hurry of urgent deeds, give me to live by the running water - running water and whispering reeds.
Let it be where there are mills and hatches, and water meadows - where kingcups grow, and bridges to lean on, from whence one catches a fugitive glimpse of the trout below.
In a little cottage - with friendly neighbours, with books and a rod for my simple needs, so shall the soul find rest from its labours by running water and whispering reeds.
Thursday, 18 October 2012
Kenneth Allsop Memorial Talk
Kenneth Allsop is often mentioned in these parts - some liked him a lot and some disliked him even more. He died in 1973 and was the sort of chap I think my father quite liked. He watched Allsop present the current affairs programme "Tonight" (BBC) in the 1960's.
I get the impression Allsop had no fear of upsetting the apple cart - I've mentioned in a previous post that we have much to thank him for in these parts as he was indeed a pioneering conservationist when atrocities were easily overlooked and indeed at a time when caring for our natural environment was thought by some to be quirky.
The rather interesting and humorous blog westdorsetconfidential will give you more information on the man, but I would recommend that you read the rather lovely piece by his friend Brian Jackman at the end of the above blog first.
I was looking forward to last years Bridport Literary Festival where we were expecting to see Ronald Blythe at the Kenneth Allsop Memorial Talk - unfortunately it was cancelled. It was a great shame as his book Akenfield is a classic and anyone who has a sense of place should seek it out. The talk was also to be used as the launch for Allsops book "In the Country" (Little Toller Books).
Little Toller have also started to publish some unpublished writings by Allsop - unearthed in Brian Jackmans loft, they were left to him and some are now published for the first time - buried treasure.
The 2012 Memorial Talk takes place at our very own Electric Palace in Bridport on Friday 16th November at 18:30 - Richard Mabey (Country Matters - A Writing Life) is the guest and he will be in conversation with Sue Clifford of Common Ground. His talk will be complimented by a celebration of Kenneth Allsop's "In the Country".
Eggardon Hill is my favourite place - when I am away it is the place I have in my mind that not only reminds me of home, but reminds me of who I am. When I am home I visit it often - on a journey I often take a route to purposefully circumvent it so I at least have it in sight. It's never far away.
It meant an awful lot to Allsop as his house was shadowed by its gigantic form and I'll finish with some appropriate words of appreciation from Richard Mabey:
He celebrates the commonplace in uncommon words, and makes these arcane Wessex prospects suddenly accessible - none more so than the great whaleback of Eggardon Hill. In the finest, defining piece, he takes an amble round an unfamiliar side of Eggardon, and looks back at his mill, past the echoing Iron Age barrows and the bog oaks of King John's Powerstock Forest, past "gorse spitting yellow sparks. Rooks blowing like charred scraps across great fields", and recalls Hardy's rhapsodies for Wessex, "that wondrous world of sap and leaves".
I get the impression Allsop had no fear of upsetting the apple cart - I've mentioned in a previous post that we have much to thank him for in these parts as he was indeed a pioneering conservationist when atrocities were easily overlooked and indeed at a time when caring for our natural environment was thought by some to be quirky.
The rather interesting and humorous blog westdorsetconfidential will give you more information on the man, but I would recommend that you read the rather lovely piece by his friend Brian Jackman at the end of the above blog first.
I was looking forward to last years Bridport Literary Festival where we were expecting to see Ronald Blythe at the Kenneth Allsop Memorial Talk - unfortunately it was cancelled. It was a great shame as his book Akenfield is a classic and anyone who has a sense of place should seek it out. The talk was also to be used as the launch for Allsops book "In the Country" (Little Toller Books).
Little Toller have also started to publish some unpublished writings by Allsop - unearthed in Brian Jackmans loft, they were left to him and some are now published for the first time - buried treasure.
The 2012 Memorial Talk takes place at our very own Electric Palace in Bridport on Friday 16th November at 18:30 - Richard Mabey (Country Matters - A Writing Life) is the guest and he will be in conversation with Sue Clifford of Common Ground. His talk will be complimented by a celebration of Kenneth Allsop's "In the Country".
Eggardon Hill is my favourite place - when I am away it is the place I have in my mind that not only reminds me of home, but reminds me of who I am. When I am home I visit it often - on a journey I often take a route to purposefully circumvent it so I at least have it in sight. It's never far away.
 |
| Eggardon Hill with birds - Kenneth Allsop |
It meant an awful lot to Allsop as his house was shadowed by its gigantic form and I'll finish with some appropriate words of appreciation from Richard Mabey:
He celebrates the commonplace in uncommon words, and makes these arcane Wessex prospects suddenly accessible - none more so than the great whaleback of Eggardon Hill. In the finest, defining piece, he takes an amble round an unfamiliar side of Eggardon, and looks back at his mill, past the echoing Iron Age barrows and the bog oaks of King John's Powerstock Forest, past "gorse spitting yellow sparks. Rooks blowing like charred scraps across great fields", and recalls Hardy's rhapsodies for Wessex, "that wondrous world of sap and leaves".
Tuesday, 9 October 2012
Cultivate your luck
HT Sheringham is an author I greatly admire. As an angler he was a superb all rounder. Just as happy watching a float for carp as he was fishing a chalk stream for trout. I also like his humour - I think of his writings on many of my own trips.
One example is his account from Coarse Fishing (1912) - it relates to the catching of carp. Hard to believe now, but then a mystical creature with the capture of a double figure specimen making the national press:
"For practical purposes there are big carp and small carp. The latter you may sometimes hope to catch without too great a strain on your capacities. The former - well, men have been known to catch them, and there are just a few anglers who have caught a good many. I myself have caught one, and I will make bold to repeat the tale of the adventure as it was told in the Field of July 1, 1911.
The narrative contains most of what I know concerning the capture of big carp. The most important thing in it is the value which it shows to reside in a modicum of good luck. So far as my experience goes, it is certain that good luck is the most vital part of the equipment of him who would seek to slay big carp. For some men I admit the usefulness of skill and pertinacity; for myself, I take my stand entirely on luck. To the novice I would say: “Cultivate your luck. Prop it up with omens and signs of good purport. Watch for magpies on your path. Form the habit of avoiding old women who squint. Throw salt over your left shoulder. Touch wood with the forefinger of your right hand whenever you are not doing anything else. Be on friendly terms with a black cat. Turn your money under the new moon. Walk round ladders. Don't start on a Friday. Stir the materials for Christmas pudding and wish. Perform all other such rites as you know or hear of. These things are important in carp-fishing."
It obviously worked for Sheringham. He was extremely successful with big carp at Cheshunt Reservoir. Being of a superstitious and sentimental nature I try to cultivate my luck at all times.
Bad luck comes in threes I am told. I thought I was doing quite well after the flood to not have a second and third but good old HTS was in the back of my mind. I had not done enough to cultivate my luck. It all caught up with me last week. My car was hit by a pony and trap (number two out of the way) and on Friday the mighty Hoot presented me with my Brit Valley Fly Fishers permit - permit No 13 (number three out of the way). I have requested the permit be changed of course, it will now be 13.5!
All should now be well - with the prospect of a fishing trip in the near future and the shrooming season underway I hope to bring you positive news.
 |
| Hugh Tempest Sheringham |
One example is his account from Coarse Fishing (1912) - it relates to the catching of carp. Hard to believe now, but then a mystical creature with the capture of a double figure specimen making the national press:
"For practical purposes there are big carp and small carp. The latter you may sometimes hope to catch without too great a strain on your capacities. The former - well, men have been known to catch them, and there are just a few anglers who have caught a good many. I myself have caught one, and I will make bold to repeat the tale of the adventure as it was told in the Field of July 1, 1911.
The narrative contains most of what I know concerning the capture of big carp. The most important thing in it is the value which it shows to reside in a modicum of good luck. So far as my experience goes, it is certain that good luck is the most vital part of the equipment of him who would seek to slay big carp. For some men I admit the usefulness of skill and pertinacity; for myself, I take my stand entirely on luck. To the novice I would say: “Cultivate your luck. Prop it up with omens and signs of good purport. Watch for magpies on your path. Form the habit of avoiding old women who squint. Throw salt over your left shoulder. Touch wood with the forefinger of your right hand whenever you are not doing anything else. Be on friendly terms with a black cat. Turn your money under the new moon. Walk round ladders. Don't start on a Friday. Stir the materials for Christmas pudding and wish. Perform all other such rites as you know or hear of. These things are important in carp-fishing."
It obviously worked for Sheringham. He was extremely successful with big carp at Cheshunt Reservoir. Being of a superstitious and sentimental nature I try to cultivate my luck at all times.
Bad luck comes in threes I am told. I thought I was doing quite well after the flood to not have a second and third but good old HTS was in the back of my mind. I had not done enough to cultivate my luck. It all caught up with me last week. My car was hit by a pony and trap (number two out of the way) and on Friday the mighty Hoot presented me with my Brit Valley Fly Fishers permit - permit No 13 (number three out of the way). I have requested the permit be changed of course, it will now be 13.5!
All should now be well - with the prospect of a fishing trip in the near future and the shrooming season underway I hope to bring you positive news.
Thursday, 4 October 2012
Gather in the Mushrooms
The season is underway - slightly mixed, but a few pleasant finds just to keep me going back. There is something about the chase when on a shrooming trip, it can be as exciting as actually finding the funghi itself. Will they be in the same spot as last year? Some have never failed me for twenty years or more thanks to my little black book and their location of course.
My shrooming trips have been as rare as my fishing trips with only the odd poke around on my journey to and from work. The last few weeks have seen quite a few Agaricus (field mushrooms) as the season has wetted up a bit, but no Wood or Field Blewits at my usual haunts. I live in hope, as in previous years I have had them right up to the Christmas period. Boxing Day has been the latest I have enjoyed Field Blewits on toast.
My shrooming trips have been as rare as my fishing trips with only the odd poke around on my journey to and from work. The last few weeks have seen quite a few Agaricus (field mushrooms) as the season has wetted up a bit, but no Wood or Field Blewits at my usual haunts. I live in hope, as in previous years I have had them right up to the Christmas period. Boxing Day has been the latest I have enjoyed Field Blewits on toast.
My weaponry has pretty much been the same for a few years now, but I could not resist the Opinel knife (above, far left) which I came across rather surprisingly in a local shop. It has just entered service and was duly christened by taking the glorious Chicken of the Woods (Laetporus sulphureus) that you can see below.
The other knives are also favourites and get an outing every now and again - the two middle knives were very welcome purchases on a Tuscan adventure and the knife on the far right has particular sentimental value as it was my very first dedicated shrooming knife.
A Somerset willow basket and firkling / furkling / fettling stick complete the set up, and more often than not these days I tend to have a pocket magnifier to hand. The stick that accompanies me on every trip is ideal for turning over leaves and woodland flotsam. A joyful item hand made for me by my good friend Styx the boatman.
The season is young, so i'll endeavour to bring good news to these shores soon.
 |
| Come on my beauties, you can do it! |
Sunday, 9 September 2012
Market Finds No 3
Ahoy! What a corker she is - A typical market bargain, I won't tell you how much, but it certainly was the must have item this week. Hand made with a fully working rudder and propeller, it was found nestled amongst the usual rust and dust of a house clearance.............calling for a home where it would be admired.
We put our very own Tintin and Snowy aboard for its maiden voyage on home waters - there will be many more adventures to follow.
In my excitement I didn't notice it already had a name - ATLAS in lovely raised type. I was going to call it HADDOCK or KARABOUDJAN after the good captains merchant vessel, but my very own good captain pointed out that this vessel had already been christened. Bad luck don't you know to re-name a boat!
Sunday, 19 August 2012
A Sussex Adventure and Sweet Chavender
Our eagerly awaited jaunt to the edge of the Sussex Downs could not have come sooner..........de-humidifiers left on warp speed for two weeks would do our lovely home the world of good and on locking the door we could at least try to forget the torment of recent weeks.
I know little of Sussex - I have friends who live and fish there and I've been beguiled by a friends story of how he completed the South Downs Way and other than a Sherlock Holmes story of a Sussex Vampyre it has passed me by. It's always been on my list of places to investigate though.
The two weeks flew by, almost as quickly as our de-humidifiers, and fishing was never far from my mind - for me as an angler not to have cast a line for anything since the glorious 16th of June was torture. Plans were hatched to at least wet a line on my return home, so I contented myself with taking in the sun, drinking the local ale and drinking the words of John Gierach. My pals Fennel and Demus had both gifted me Gierach books in recent times and I'm ashamed to say they had not been reached in my reading pile so in honour of them both I fast tracked them to top o' pile.
There must have been some sort of harmonic convergence going on as by the end of the first week I still hadn't found a corker of a beer or a corker of a pub - these are the must haves for me on an adventure...........I had found a nice little bottled ale, very pleasant lightly chilled at the beach (Arundel Brewery Sussex Gold), but it was just alright, something was missing. I remember having a chat with Bernard Venables about how we would both spend hours driving around on family trips trying to find the right pub and the right beer.......many would be rejected to the amazement of passengers and this is what I am like too, it has to be just right, one element out of place and it's no good. I know some of my other friends do this too, so it can't just be me.
Then it happened, we had returned from the beach and my phone rang, it was Ferneyhough to see how things were - "you must try the Black Horse at Byworth" he said. "It's just your cup of tea, I wrote about it in Casting at The Sun and I think we even had a Golden Scale bash or two there in the 80's before you joined, give it a go, it may be just what you are after" - it was. Flowerpots, Andwells and Langhams brew ale that could have been made by the fairies as I had never heard of them, I soon became well acquainted.
I had made great plans to visit all sorts of places, drag the children to far flung corners of the downs, take in Ravilious vistas and generally arse about but all we did and all we needed to do was recharge and this we did mainly on the beach which was alright by me. Perhaps another time.
So, I am pleased to say that since returning home life is slowly returning to some sort of normality..............I have actually been fishing and after such an enforced sabbatical it would always be my bolt hole that is the Avon that won the toss for the venue.
Scalding temperatures meant evening would be my best bet, but after so long on the sidelines I actually arrived as mist was whorling off the meadows and river. A secret nook by a small sallow bush which is known to contain a monster or two was where I layed my jacket as a seat and dropped a huge lobworm into the slow river just my side of the crease. I could see chub, barbel and bream and I really did not care who was hungry for my bait and rather fittingly it was a glorious chub that was first to oblige. I adore Avon chub. Then two Avon bream followed of around 6-7lbs each - now I have never been a fan of bream since a week in Ireland as a schoolboy in the back of a mini-bus with the rest of the school angling society. Coupled with the stench of a weeks bream slime from bream bashing on the Shannon to keep us company and the vomit from six unwashed twelve year old schoolboys high on bream you may understand where this prejudice came from.
I put the two splendid bream down to my lucky vintage Portmeirion bream tea mug, it always brings me some sort of luck on the Avon. I had a few more chub before going down with barbel fever and duly caught nothing more. I should have listened to my rational self - ignore those double figure barbel that keep ghosting in over your bait, you don't need one today - enjoy the moment and if one comes along then thank him most profusely. Barbel fever kicked in and it served me right that they were too canny for me.
As night fell I was more than happy with my lot - time is a great healer and I do now actually like bream - well, Avon bream. They do seem a bit different........less slimy!
I know little of Sussex - I have friends who live and fish there and I've been beguiled by a friends story of how he completed the South Downs Way and other than a Sherlock Holmes story of a Sussex Vampyre it has passed me by. It's always been on my list of places to investigate though.
The two weeks flew by, almost as quickly as our de-humidifiers, and fishing was never far from my mind - for me as an angler not to have cast a line for anything since the glorious 16th of June was torture. Plans were hatched to at least wet a line on my return home, so I contented myself with taking in the sun, drinking the local ale and drinking the words of John Gierach. My pals Fennel and Demus had both gifted me Gierach books in recent times and I'm ashamed to say they had not been reached in my reading pile so in honour of them both I fast tracked them to top o' pile.
There must have been some sort of harmonic convergence going on as by the end of the first week I still hadn't found a corker of a beer or a corker of a pub - these are the must haves for me on an adventure...........I had found a nice little bottled ale, very pleasant lightly chilled at the beach (Arundel Brewery Sussex Gold), but it was just alright, something was missing. I remember having a chat with Bernard Venables about how we would both spend hours driving around on family trips trying to find the right pub and the right beer.......many would be rejected to the amazement of passengers and this is what I am like too, it has to be just right, one element out of place and it's no good. I know some of my other friends do this too, so it can't just be me.
 |
| Courtesy Demus Canning |
Then it happened, we had returned from the beach and my phone rang, it was Ferneyhough to see how things were - "you must try the Black Horse at Byworth" he said. "It's just your cup of tea, I wrote about it in Casting at The Sun and I think we even had a Golden Scale bash or two there in the 80's before you joined, give it a go, it may be just what you are after" - it was. Flowerpots, Andwells and Langhams brew ale that could have been made by the fairies as I had never heard of them, I soon became well acquainted.
I had made great plans to visit all sorts of places, drag the children to far flung corners of the downs, take in Ravilious vistas and generally arse about but all we did and all we needed to do was recharge and this we did mainly on the beach which was alright by me. Perhaps another time.
So, I am pleased to say that since returning home life is slowly returning to some sort of normality..............I have actually been fishing and after such an enforced sabbatical it would always be my bolt hole that is the Avon that won the toss for the venue.
Scalding temperatures meant evening would be my best bet, but after so long on the sidelines I actually arrived as mist was whorling off the meadows and river. A secret nook by a small sallow bush which is known to contain a monster or two was where I layed my jacket as a seat and dropped a huge lobworm into the slow river just my side of the crease. I could see chub, barbel and bream and I really did not care who was hungry for my bait and rather fittingly it was a glorious chub that was first to oblige. I adore Avon chub. Then two Avon bream followed of around 6-7lbs each - now I have never been a fan of bream since a week in Ireland as a schoolboy in the back of a mini-bus with the rest of the school angling society. Coupled with the stench of a weeks bream slime from bream bashing on the Shannon to keep us company and the vomit from six unwashed twelve year old schoolboys high on bream you may understand where this prejudice came from.
I put the two splendid bream down to my lucky vintage Portmeirion bream tea mug, it always brings me some sort of luck on the Avon. I had a few more chub before going down with barbel fever and duly caught nothing more. I should have listened to my rational self - ignore those double figure barbel that keep ghosting in over your bait, you don't need one today - enjoy the moment and if one comes along then thank him most profusely. Barbel fever kicked in and it served me right that they were too canny for me.
As night fell I was more than happy with my lot - time is a great healer and I do now actually like bream - well, Avon bream. They do seem a bit different........less slimy!
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