Back then we lived in a three storey house in North London. My Mum and Dad, myself and my brother and my Nan and Grandad lived on the ground floor.
On the first floor lived an Aunt and Uncle with two children and on the top floor lived my Aunt Gladys and Uncle Tom, who had no children.
Nearby were Clissold Park and Finsbury Park and it was there that I used to go with my net and jam jar to catch sticklebacks and take them back to proudly show to my Uncle Tom, who was an angler himself, and was able to appreciate the sense of joy it brought to a young boy.
Uncle Tom was always special to me. I suppose that not having any children himself he could afford to make a fuss of his nieces and nephews, and as he was a bit of a sportsman, (he played cricket, football and boxed), as well as an angler, we looked up to him.
Sometimes we would be playing in the street when he would come out of the house carrying a small holdall. We would rush up to him calling out, “where are you going Uncle?” His reply would always be the same. “I’m off to see a man about a dog”. He never came back with one though.
Uncle Tom (on the left) with my Dad and me. Lovely hand-carved wooden cricket bat soon to be superseded by a fishing rod.
He was a member of the London Anglers Association and he would often take me along on his trips to the River Lea or the Grand Union Canal, where he would sit and fish with me alongside him. There was an endless supply of bleak and often his float would not even have time to settle in the water as the bleak hit the bait with such speed. Quick reflexes were required in order to strike in time. I was not aware at the time that this was all part of learning how to fish and was part of my education to become an angler.
I have in my possession a small book entitled ‘The Second Edition of The Jolly Angler or Water Side Companion’ published in 1836. This is what is has to say about bleak.
The bleak is found in nearly all rivers round London; you may catch them in great quantities with a house fly on the top of the water, or a gentle on the same sort of tackle as described for minnows, only put the float about a foot above the hook, and strike the moment they bite: you will be sure of taking plenty of these fish if you throw in, close to your float, a few carrion gentles or any other ground-bait that is light; they are excellent amusement for the young angler, and beget a habit of striking quickly, a thing of great use to the roach fisherman. In shape, colour, and size, they much resemble the sprat, and are considered delicate and nutritious food.
So not only was I learning how to fish, I might also have been helping to provide the evening meal.
On some occasions Uncle Tom would go pike fishing and I still have his pike rod. It is a two piece greenheart rod which weighs a ton as well as being as stiff as a poker. How much rods have changed since those days.
In 1952 my Mum and Dad moved into a new 2 bedroomed council house in South Ockendon in Essex. Now my younger brother and I could share our own bedroom whereas previously we had all been in the same room. Such luxury.
The housing estate was still in an early stage of construction in what had been virgin countryside and there were several small ponds here and there.
I would often visit these ponds and paddle barefoot amongst the broken bottles and dead dogs and cats to catch newts in my little net to take home in my jam jar. Often I would cut my feet on the broken glass but somehow I managed to avoid any really serious injuries. A friend of mine at the time was not as fortunate as he contracted polio and ended up wearing leg irons.
My Dad was never interested in fishing or any sport really, but Uncle Tom used to come and visit us and he would take my brother and I to the local gravel pits in Mollands Lane for a days fishing. I was always very keen but my brother wasn’t really that interested. Once we’d finished our sandwiches and drunk our lemonade from the screw top bottle he would want to go. “Can we go yet Uncle?” he would enquire. “No, not yet” would come the reply. One time my brother got bored and decided to go walkabout, but left his rod fishing for us to keep an eye on. While he was away my Uncle filled the empty lemonade bottle with water, reeled in my brother’s rod and placed the hook and shot inside the bottle and screwed on the top. He then dropped it back in the water. As we saw my brother coming back my Uncle called to him “Michael, you’ve got a bite, your float has disappeared”. When he picked up the rod he almost fell in as the weight of a lemonade bottle full of water bent the rod double.
One summer, during the school holidays, I went back to London to stay with my Uncle who had promised to take me fishing in Finsbury Park. He and my Aunt still lived on the top floor of our old house and as they had no outside storage available he had to keep all his fishing tackle in the bedroom. This included any bait, like maggots. The containers in those days were round and made of metal and would often get damaged or have slightly buckled and ill fitting lids.
My Uncle woke me at silly o clock in the morning and we crept around trying not to wake my Aunt who was still sound asleep. For some reason the rods and tackle, together with the maggots were under the bed, and as my Uncle tried to retrieve them the lid popped off the maggot container and it tipped over spilling maggots all over the bedroom floor. Maggots everywhere.
It’s quite amazing how maggots shoot off in all directions, at high speed, scrurrying to get away, instead of forming an orderly queue which would have helped to lead them back into the container. There we were, on our hands and knees, franticly trying to catch as many as we could, whilst my Aunt lay in bed sound asleep. We couldn’t even turn the light on for fear of waking her. Whether we got them all or not I never knew, although I doubt that we did, and I never knew if my Aunt ever found out either.
As I grew up I progressed from a bamboo cane rod, green twine line, cat gut hook link to a proper rod (glass fibre?) with rod rings, a fishing reel and proper line. At one time I even owned the notorious tank ariel rod.
Now, of course, any young boy can get hold of the latest equipment and go fishing, all the things you need for success these days: bait boats, fish finders, high Tech buzzers, super dooper reels, and ready-made boilies…gizmos galore.
But all they really need is an ‘Uncle Tom’, don’t they?
Eddie Benham
