Those early times my Father would say,"We're off boy"are as fresh in my mind as the feel of an autumn day on the Grand Union.I recall the creaking of my smaller basket kindly donated by some angling aquaintance of my parent,the smell of petrol as Dad fired up the old Cortina and the clanging of a tartan Thermos against its wicker surround.The trudge of welly boots along the towpath making the herons fly up into the blue.
My first rod was a one piece six foot Auger with "built for anglers by anglers" proudly emblazened on the fish logo,my reel was a cheap blue centrepin.
Of course in those days I'd eat my sandwiches,drink my Bovril and discover quite soon that Wellies have no insular properties at all.
The lure of a warm fireplace or dinner was always abated by the thought of that little float going under.One day,it did,my first ever fish a perfect roach no more than 2oz..I was ecstatic..I wondered just how big they would grow and if he was cold.....It is now that I recall that day,all these years later because yesterday I went out in search of monster roach....
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