Sweaty Patel's Tackle Shop

Come on then, let's have your favourite tackle shop stories.

Memories rather than a story.....

When my burgeoning fishing career started, the local ‘tackle’ outlet was a corner of a saddlery shop. You opened the door and almost had to push you way through the smell of leather as you made your way past any amount of bridles and saddles, and gents wearing white aprons beavering away on various bits of tack to the back of the shop.

Here was everything the tyro angler could possibly need, bunches of brightly coloured floats hung up on wire rings, shiny new reels in glass cabinets, every type of rod (well about six, anyway) on a revolving stand, spools of Pescalon and Black Seal line on a dispenser by a window (Didn’t seem to worry too much about sunlight damaging the line, as 6lb Pescalon could easily double as trace wire, as anyone trying to attach it to a spade end hook would testify)

Then there were the wooden drawers in front of the till. Each one filled with individual compartments and each compartment containing its own treasure. Leger weights, (bored bullets and coffin leads were the two choices) split shot, pots of Mucilin, and dozens of cigar tins containing hooks, some loose (3d each) others in packets, and (seemingly incredibly expensive) packets of hooks to nylon, usually tied to Kroic nylon.

The ‘pike’ drawer had treble hooks, swivels; vicious looking gaffs, and all the pike lures you would ever need, being a selection of both kidney and Colorado spoons. Again, the distinctive rattling sound of those drawers being slid open is etched on the memory to be vividly recall if another noise comes close to it

And here, at the back of that shop, the seemingly overpowering leather smell had to give way to that unmistakable linseed oil aroma of knotted keep nets that seemed compulsory to tackle shops in those days.

When Ted Waterman had Ringwood Tackle he was an absolute legend. I got on really well with him but he was, perhaps, the rudest person to ever own a shop. I am sure people went there just to get their weekly dose of abuse.

I can't remember the exact words but I have senn him described in a book as something like " that fat bastard from Ringwood Tackle who ruined my holiday". Many times I saw him having a go at customers asking for bait, day tickets or tackle and not allowing him to finish his cup of tea.

My personal favourite was when he was on his sponsored diet. He had a belt made up of rolls of £1 coins. He just used to remove a few before the weekly weigh in at Boots.

A true legend. Although Rich, who owns the shop now,worked for Ted when he was at school he is far more polite and helpful.

I vaguely remember one story about Ted in that a holiday angler asked what the best bait was for the nearby Avon.

Ted's reply went along the lines of 'The bait I sell in the ****ing shop!'.

There was a lovely old shop under the railway bridge in Abbey Foregate in Shrewsbury.

It was in what seemed to be a wooden garden shed and had everything the junior angler couldn't buy from uncle Franks, (F W Woolworths), in the late 60's. It was dark and dingy and whatever you wanted was always buried under a pile of stuff you didn't and involved a protracted search, it was hot and stuffy in the summer with a window full of dead maggot flies and in the winter it was freezing, the smell was the usual one of ammonia from the maggots mixed with the ubiquitous linseed oil.

It was still there in 1973 when I went away for a few years but it and the neighbouring chip shop had gone when I came back in the early eighties.

I think someone said it burned down but I couldn't be certain.

There is a great new shop on an industrial estate just outside the town now which is really well stocked with everything the modern angler could dream of, it's well laid out, bright and cheerful, air conditioned and smells of fish-meal pellets and fruity boilies but it lacks the heart soul of that old wooden shed.

My early tackle shop memories are that the shops I went to were not just tackle shops but doubled as pet shops or chandlers. It is only in later life that I came across the dedicated tackle shop with it's denizens of "match anglers with nothing much to do today" who invariably made me feel as welcome as arat in a bivvy. Thankfully they are not all like that and my favourite shop has an owner who is always willing to share advice.

I say "my favourite" because I have no local tackle shop and I go to several depending upon where my daily travels take me.

My local shop was "Judds of Hillingdon" owned by the legendary Jack Harrigan.A vertitable cave of wonders for a small boy just starting out.I would cycle there just to smell the keepnets though Jack's almost permanent cigar could overpower even the linseed oil.Arthur Lubbock helped in the shop.Arthur lost a hand in the war and had a leather pad over what was basically a bone stump.Used it to excellent effect when somebody tried to nick his swim on the Avon...knocked the guy cold and Arthur was an old man then.

If anyones read "A Can of Worms" by John Berry the stories about Jack in there are true....particularly the one about slapping his old chap on the counter and saying "beat that and your bait's free".No one ever did.

I remember a tank in the corner of the shop with the biggest gudgeon I had ever seen or ever will see.Caught from the Avon this thing was half as big again as the then record but Jack was then the Barbel record holder and his reputation wouldn't allow him to claim the gudgeon record too.That was nearer 7 ounces than six.Jacks barbelwas 13lb 2 oz....a monster then but now just a good fish.

As Kevin says,floats on racks,PDQ line,tins of mixed shot and black jappaned hooks in little brown envelopes.Jars of stewed wheat and pickled minnows and collapsable waterproof buckets for matches on the Thames fished to size limits to carry your catch to the scalesman.

It was the smell I remember most.Linseed oil,cigar smoke and maggot.Magic.

When I read Lord Paul's description of the tackle shop I had an instant picture of Stan Lewis's shop in Bewdley which has to be seen to be believed. You get an idea of what to expect when you look in the small front window which has the best display of dust anywhere in Britain, even the very dated small items of tacklein the windowthat look as if they were discarded by prewar anglers and to my knowledge have been there for 50 years, have a layer of dust that makes any identification difficult.

The only cleaning that ever takes place in Stan's shop is done by the occasional flooding it receives which itself leaves all manner of smelly things that remain until the next flood washes them away only to replace them with even more smelly stuff. It is rumoured that Stan's wife goes in the shop very early doors every day to pick up the vast quantities of maggots that are self perpetuating thereby saving Stan the trouble and expense of buying any, those that are on the turn are sold as casters.

My local tackle shop - Sharpe's in Kentish Town - is still in business and is very similar to Graham's description above. The small front window there also contains a dusty display of floats and small tackle items, with the labels faded to illegibility by years of sunlight. The shop itself, which is small, is piled high with boxes and stuff in seeminglyrandom order (although Bob the owner knows where most things are and can usually find what you ask for quickly enough). It's so crammed, there's only room for about fourcustomers in the place at any one time. It smells interesting, too - a combination of maggots, groundbait, sweaty socks, boilie flavouringsand damp. I love the place and try to buy from it if I can, but do have to go elsewhere for some things, as, like many olde tackle shoppes, the range ofstock is rather limited.

My Boyhood tackle shop was Half tackle/bait and half electrical shop!! he sold carded floats......hooks to nylon......intrepid reels.....light bulbs......torchs.....allmanner of fuses and electical stuff.

But come the 6 week holidays we could pool our pennies and he would sell us 3d or 6d worth of maggots.

God bless him!!!

I know Stan Lewis' shop in Bewdley, He used to be a fine match angler in the 70's.

The last time I went in there he had a pallet full of luncheon meat in the middle of the shop, I think it was older than me. But tbh it's unusual to find him open these days.

For a whileI used a tackle shop in Measham, Leicestershire simply known as 'Dave's'. Gone now following a matrimonial dispute.

A small, really friendly place where you would always get a cuppa and a good chinwag, even if you were just passing by.

My favourite moment was when a bloke asked Dave how much would he do a set of rods for. Said rods were about a hundred quid each and the bloke wanted three of them. Dave had a think and quoted him £80 a rod. 'Such and such a shop said he would do them for £75 a rod' the bloke came back with. Dave asked if the other shop had them in stock. 'No, but he's getting some in' was the reply.

'No problem,' replied Dave. 'When I haven't got any in, I'll do them for £60 a rod. But since I have .......'

Classic!

The shop and characters in "Sweat Patel's Tackle Shop" are based on several shops from my local area that existed when I was about 8 or 10.

One was a small shop that sold electrical goods and strangely air gun pellets, another was a small hardware and gardening shop that had a wall of small drawers that contained differing screws and nails- the owner knew where which draw held which without any labels and could give advice on what you needed. Both these shop would sell single item - 1 13a fuse or 6 screws not like the DIY stores these days where you buy a packet of 30 nails and use 4.

Also these shop seemed to be places where men lingered and chatted whilst buying seeds for the garden. Sadly most of these dimly lit shops have gone but the hardware/garden place - forever known as "Frenchies" is still going and still looks no different

My local tackle shop used to be a bit like Sweaty's but has since changed owners and since the smoking ban is a decent place to call on a Saturday buy a few hooks and chat for 10 minutes.