A brief word if we may
Within these pages you will find peace and warm reflection in what we believe is a quiet backwater. Here one can while away time sitting comfortably in a familiar armchair accompanied by a favoured tipple.
Our aim is to confer all that angling means to us – for it is far more than fishing alone, and thus we have set out to offer a veritable ramble through our beloved countryside. We regard its wonderful flora, fauna and of course the myriad waters we encounter on our travels – whether river, stream or pool.
There will of course be articles & pictures for vintage tackles and ephemera, and we could not exclude man’s best friend either as they are with us most of the time.
Provisions will also make an appearance as it seems this too is of vital importance – after all good food feeds body and soul the three together provide for healthy convergence.
Lastly, an idea that gathers friends and stories has surely no better destination than the village pub.
In winter’s cold, to be sat atop a creaking settle, an ale in hand, while the open fire warms the convivial conversation and the bones, is surely an experience to savour, and in the throes of summer’s long shadows to sit amidst green rolling hills, by the side of a gently flowing river or lost pool the conversation among friends is as the scene surrounding them – joyous and abundant.
Who are the Piscatorial Raconteurs
When I was growing up the countryside was a veritable garden and new discoveries were around every corner – whatever we (my Sister and I) did in this garden my parents encouraged us, offering insights on how to appreciate all that made it so magical.
The essence then of this imparted wisdom was to see nature as one glorious continuum and that we were very much part of it – the virtue of which I have tried ever since to follow.
David bucked a trend at the tender age of four by not making his first fish a perch. Rather perversely it was a Thames bleak and this set in train a deep seated fish-envy for which therapy has been sought for a lifetime since.
Recent career highlights include helping his son to land a new UK record ruffe but forgetting to bring the scales.
Born and raised in a small village in rural Kent, Rob’s voyage of discovery started early on, fishing the Wealden iron ponds and local rivers. These days he can mostly be found lurking around on the Romney Marsh, rod in hand and faithful dog ‘Yates’ by his side. The marsh to him is a special almost spiritual place, where he can find peace under its big expansive skies. Many an hour will be spent bird watching rather than float watching.
A connoisseur of fine ales, when not out fishing or walking, more often than not he will be found sampling a pint or two in one of his favourite public houses with like minded friends and members of the ‘Kentish Canes.’
I was born and raised on a hill high above Dylan Thomas’s “Ugly lovely town” from an early age I roamed ‘feral’ with varying numbers of lads of a similar age. Close to home there were swathes of land previously in cultivation now gone to “wild”, home to grass snakes, slow worms and lizards.
Little ponds and damp patches harboured Frogs and Newts, all these creatures were hunted and incarcerated in tanks wet and dry, the luckier ones enjoying the luxury of a garden pond. Later we ventured further afield to the big parks and the coast, ultimately as a natural progression we came to fishing.
I first found my way to the riverside in the late 1960s as a young boy aged 5 or 6. Tagging along with my Dad, we would explore the Mole, the Wey or the lower-middle Thames in Surrey.
Those formative days have led to a lifelong passion for all forms of angling, acquiring vintage tackle and celebrating the countryside in all its seasonal glory.
In recent years, time spent with rod and line has been shared with observing, sketching and photographing the wider flora and fauna.
As an unapologetic bibliophile, Messrs. Yates, Williamson and Watkins-Pitchford will always remind me when I’ve been away from the waterside for too long
I was born in London. Not within the sound of Bow Bells, but within the smell and touch of Epping Forest, in a quiet corner of Chingford overlooking the Lea Valley. I was immersed in the countryside from as far back as I can remember.
I began to learn to fish with my dad at age 5. He had never fished before either, so we embarked on a lifelong passion together, learning our craft as a novice team. Come rain, ice or shine, every week would see us on the Lea.
The forest too held magical pools and streams. To see water shrew, loach, bullheads or the electric streak of a kingfisher deep in the woods were sights that fascinated my young mind. And it is in the forests where my soul ultimately resides.
Up until the age of 10 my fishing was concentrated into two frantic weeks every year on the family holiday in Cornwall. Here my dad taught me and my two older brothers the art of deceiving wild brown trout on float fished cheese and bread. I went on to study closer to home on the river Mole in Surrey. Regular weekend trips at a tender age meant my mind became full of wonderment for fishy environments and the wildlife that surrounded it.
I now live in Dorset within walking distance from the Stour. Feeling for bites after dark in the depths of winter on a deserted river bank is my idea of heaven. But I will also tolerate float fishing a beautiful pool on a glorious summer’s evening. Just as long as the wildlife outnumbers the anglers and I have a decent bit of cane – I’m in!
June 16th – Dreaming on the Beult. ‘Is that a tench I can see?’
Martin requires little by way of an introduction. He has been contributing to all that is worthy in angling and further afield including a number of charitable organisations for a number of years.
That is me, sometime angler, I also do a bit of this and that, bodging in my workshop, walking the moors, I already know a couple of like minded people on here, the other unlucky ones I will hopefully meet in the months and years to come.
It is a pleasure to be here and hopefully my meagre contributions will be at least enough for you to while away a few moments, amuse or at the very least least provide a wry smile.
Having been born and brought up in the East End, angling and the wonderment of the natural world seemed an alien concept to a young lad. But that was to change when the family upped sticks and moved to a very rural North Norfolk. Shortly after, my father took me fishing for the first time (I later found out that we were poaching as he had been furnished with a tip from a chap at work!) and by pure fluke I caught a splendid Brown Trout.
My love of fishing and being beside, on or just gazing at water was born. Today, having a lifelong passion for anything vintage, sees me tinkering with a variety of tackle and related items. Whether it be fettling a reel, bringing back to life a discarded cane rod, or making floats the satisfaction of successfully landing a fish on such items brings immense satisfaction to a simple soul.
From the age of nine, my piscatorial apprenticeship initially took me float-fishing to pools in and around the Brecon Beacons for roach and gudgeon and soon broadened to the pursuit of trout on the river Taff.
Undoubtedly ‘urban’ in places, the river’s path was still home to a profusion of insect life, birds of variety included pied, grey and yellow wagtails, dippers, herons and kingfishers.
As well as the resident brown and rainbow trout, bullheads, stone loach and shoals of minnows were always present. They all contribute to the rich tapestry of memories I have today.
I feel life within a tree, and grace in wind and earth I see, inside all waters call to me – I wished to fish the sea,
the rivers and the pools, and God has heard this my humble plea and gifted them to me.
Sussexman is our copy proofer, for which we are all extremely pleased about and grateful. He has a wealth of experience and he’s going to need it with our dabblings. He enjoys his angling on rivers and pools and as his nom de plume suggests – in Sussex.
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