Article - Coarse

Grandad's First Angling Trip

By Jason, added on 25/05/2007

All my life I have wanted to take my Grandad on a fishing trip. He was not at all interested. He was your typical "East Ender". He loved a drink and a bet. The only wildlife he was interested in,were animals that could win him "dough".

He was their when I bought my first angling "kit", from Woolworths way back in 1981. But he could never understand the allure of it all. Over the years he would often enquire how I was getting on. I told him of the sunrise and sunsets, the wildlife and the smells of the countryside. But with not an awful lot of glee in his eyes. The fight of a certain species made him none the wiser....

Until last year. I decided he had no choice in the matter, he would come along and enjoy what his grandson held so close to his heart.

Early Autumn, we made our way to the river Mole is Surrey. It was just to be a pleasure session, his not mine. He was told over the years of the fight from Barbel etc. But I just wanted him to enjoy the whole day. So a float rod for trotting was on the agenda.

Maggotts and Bread were to be the bait. We arrived around 08.00. The mist was rising and the smells of Autumn were in abundance. The river, as we anglers know is at it's most stunning then? We decided to walk about a mile upstream (though he never really had a choice). This was "Our Day". Not a complaint left the old fella's lips. I hope he was just happy to be there?

He saw a Hare go bolting off in the long grass, plus Muntjack Deer. To him and his eyes they were always food. That's what the WW2 does to a man I guess.

We stopped for a coffee from my flask, though grandad declined. At last we settled down to fish a swim, I hoped we would catch from? I showed him how to shot a float, how to feed a swim and how to cast. Was he impressed? I do not know.He was as non-plussed as ever.

I hoped he would be inspired by the dance of the float downstream, alas not. We moved swims a few times until we came to my favourite, the swim known as "Stumps".

I was certain of a good fish here. I slowly showed grandad how to trott a float slowly past the old oak tree, to get a bite. And it duly went. And nice fight ensured and a lovely 3lb Perch slipped over the net. He was weighed and duly slipped back. I know the "old man" was impressed.

I told him I loved him, and put his little urn of ashes, back in my bag. You see he was always going to come along, and for that I'm thankfull.

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