DAWN RAIDERS – DISCO NIGHTS

When I first joined up with the “Preservation” the Senior Squad was made up of Percy’s Pimpernel Team and other Preservation stalwarts.  Percy threw his angling coaching sessions was however developing a talented crop of young anglers.  The first lot of youngsters would fish in the B or C Teams, however as we got older and in to our late teens we pressed our way into the Senior Squad and got the opportunity to fish the big one the “All England”. Our youthful enthusiasm made up for lack of expertise and so we would badger our elders to look at new initiatives to support our practicing on the venues, something the oldies did not do much.  We secured individual sponsorships way before it became common place, we also raised funds through jumble sales and car boots.

The Jumble Sale thing was a nice little earner except we had to put up with Percy’s antics.  Can you imagine the scene?  The village hall full of old clothes, books etc with people buying them up for 50 pence.  Of course Percy played to the crowd and so we would often find him acting up with a pair of old knickers on his head or trying on one of those huge corsets that Grandmas wear.

Most of us were 17 to 22 years old so we were quite impressionable and would copy Percy.  “Light and bitter son” and so that’s what we drank, none of this lager stuff.  We could not afford the huge Panama cigars Percy and George smoked so we made do with Tom Thumb cigars!

The other major earner and I have to say was a good team-bonding activity was our hugely successful disco nights.

These were held at the Manor School Youth Centre, we had food and an outside bar and a half decent DJ.  We ran them over a four or five year period.  They were posh do’s, all ticket and always sold out.  I am not sure why we packed them in but I can genuinely say they were brilliant affairs so we must have gone out on a high.  Most of the people who attended were of the same age group but we did have a few of the oldies present and of course this included Percy.  He and Pat his wife loved this as all his boys would be there and he would enjoy free drinks all night.  Now this was at the time of the Saturday Night Fever film with its star John Travolta.  The Bee Gees did the sound track and of course all the discos played the music.  Some of us took the thing a bit more seriously than others, copying the hairstyles and wearing high-heeled shoes.  One such lad was ‘Sluggy’ aka Dave Lindsay.  Now Dave cut a dash.  Quite tall and moodily handsome, Dave fancied himself as the man in the movies.  Now he could not really dance, lets face it most of us blokes can’t but Dave did perfect “that dance”, you know the one with the hip swinging and pointing one arm up to the sky.  This was Dave’s signature dance and on our Christmas Disco he did not let us down.

At around 10 o’clock with the place heaving, condensation running down the walls, the smell of beer and smoke was quite intoxicating.  Dave walked in and for a moment it all went quiet.  Dave was wearing a full-length black leather coat which only stopped just above his ankles; a copy of the coat the hairy Bee Gee was wearing at the time.  Dave had clearly spent a shed load on this coat and despite it steaming in the hall Dave  was not going to take it off.  The girls hovered round, “ooh Dave you look just like that bloke out of the Bee Gees”.  If you have seen the Catherine Tate show then picture the girls just like her signature character then you will get an idea of our boys groupies.  “Go on Sluggy do that dance”.  “Sluggy, Sluggy, Sluggy”.  The chant got louder and louder with people gathering round him chanting and clapping.  The DJ thoroughly pissed off decided to change the record and put on “that song” and off  Sluggy went with his perfect imitation of the dance.  Everyone was chanting and clapping our boy.  They loved it and of course Percy not to be outdone started to imitate Sluggy behind his back, fuelled with light and bitter Percy was no match but the whole scene was hilarious.  Dave’s face was as red as a Lobster; he must have been so hot in that coat Percy on the other hand was down to his string vest and had kicked off his crocodile shoes.  “Sluggy, Sluggy, Percy, Percy”.  I bet Dave’s still got that coat; the Goths would pay a fortune for it.  Of course being the poet I did not strut my stuff preferring to watch form the wings. I did not see Mr. Darler at the events, I think he must have been a little too young and was not allowed out after 9pm.

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NETHERGROVE LAKE – A TALE OF NAUGHTINESS

When Percy and I first saw Nethergrove Lake we both shared the same vision.  It was truly a mess but we could see its potential and after much hard work and some considerable heartache Nethergrove Lake has matured in to a lovely and very special little venue.

Of course we are protective of it and drop by on a regular basis to make sure everything is ok.  On one such occasion, Percy was restless, it was a very balmy summer evening and so he and Jimmy dog hopped in to his van and off they shot to the lake.  Remember Percy only went one speed at 40mph in town or along the A14.  Jimmy dog’s little face hanging out of the window, his hair swept back with the force of the wind, perched across Percy’s shoulder.  Percy arrived at the lake with dusk soon to be upon the venue.  He unlocked the gate, drove across the bridge over the River Qi! (his christening, not mine!  He quietly got out of his little van with Jimmy dog scurrying around sniffing and pissing up every tree. For those of you that do not know this fishery has a large island with a narrow channel around it.  There is opposite the island a peninsular with a large tree and then the “new part of the lake dug up by CFPAS LTD takes you back to where you park.  Percy looked across the lake to the peninsula and saw movement.  He and Jimmy walked around the lake under the cherry trees he and I had planted.  As he approached the peninsula he could see more clearly two people laying on the grass arms and legs entwined.  They were oblivious to Percy who was very fast approaching.  The couple were naked and were making quite a bit of noise.  Percy approached and put his considerable boot on the lad’s naked arse.  “You can’t do that here son!”  He said in this authoritive voice.  The somewhat startled lad said “Oh I’m sorry” and then said “thank you” at the same time as the young lady beneath him gave a sigh.  The couple quickly gathered up their clothes and left – not in anger I might add.  Leaving Jimmy dog scurrying around sniffing every blade of grass.

Ok, ok, but I just had to tell this story!  Oh and the young lady had quite “perffed boobs” according to Percy “its pert, Percy pert!”

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PERCY AND THE POET – THE CAMBRIDGE BOYS

The poet that’s what Percy called me. You see when I was in primary school I wrote a poem called the Fog and won a prestigious National Award and even had my picture in the Evening News!

At this very time I had joined Percy’s band of young anglers.  Most of us remain in contact despite the ups and downs of life.  With the passing of my friend and mentor I have come to reflect upon how this man influenced us and only now have I started to appreciate how he dealt with our different characters.  Take Ian Darler for instance.  He was a little skinny lad with a definite swagger.  Never shy to speak up in his booming voice, he would though if challenged go off and brood only then to come back and put his point of view.  Percy’s way of handling this chirpy character was and has always been to slaughter him.  He would have his ear cuffed on many occasions yet still Ian came back for more.  I witnessed this quite brutal treatment right up until Percy’s passing.  On one occasion Percy had to get his tackle back in the van, but clearly struggling to pack up, Ian helped him yet still got a rollicking.  Ian took it, swore at him and Percy swore at Ian yet still you could see the affection and respect between them.

Now being poet meant that I was the more sensitive of the group, a shy boy with considerable talent.

Percy saw this in me, and he also recognised the “administrator” in me long before I ever became one.  Percy would always speak to me in a soft tone, never raising it unlike with the Darler boy.  He knew though with me this was the best way.  It was not though always a “Lumbdy dumbdy” relationship I would on a couple of occasions challenge him which quite shocked him as you “never” did this to the master, but I did and we remained friends.  “I can never get hold of you and you never return my calls,” he would say.  “You are like the pimpernel dear boy!”  “Yes Sir Percy, but when I call you back you are never there!”  “That’s not my fault” he would reply.  “You don’t ask how I am, son”  “I know how you are Percy!”  He would pause take a puff of his cigarette and just say, “I know son!”  and this was at a time in his life when he was really quite ill.  I knew it but could not talk about it with him.  “I’ve still got things for you to do Percy!”.  “You are cruel”  Percy would say, “You have no shame”.  “But Percy I need you to do this”.  I know he would sort things out for me “where do you get this from dear boy”.  “You Percy” I replied.  “I would never take advantage like you”  He pleaded his innocence but we all know differently.

At Easter time two years since Percy left us only now I am able to talk about such things.  My rambling continues to take on a form of “Percy speak” and I know many may say what on earth has this got to do with the fishing club?  That’s exactly it thought!  It’s as much about the people, your relationships the adventures we have had.

Here is the poem written by Percy’s daughter Tracy and read out at his funeral service

A Cambridge Boy:

Farewell my Daddy, but not goodbye

Your time has come, your soul must fly

To dance with angels, find the sun

But how we’ll miss my special one

He walks among us for many a while

Weaved your magic, made us smile

Your life was so full of light and tears

We lived it through you, through the years

The golden days they went so fast

The precious times, why can’t they last?

So many loved you, did you know?

I was not ready to let you go

The stars form heaven are only lent

A gift form God, that’s why they’re sent

We won’t forget our Cambridge Boy

You filled our lives with so much joy

Your star will shine now in the sky

Farewell my Daddy, but not Goodbye.

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FISH TALES – CONFIDENCE

It is fair to say that I don’t take much care of my fishing tackle.  I can buy new stuff and within a few months it is messed up.  I just am not a neat angler, I will spend hours making up rigs only for them to be all busted up when I use them.

How on earth I could be an Angling Coach I don’t know, but then I don’t think it is all about how good your tackle is, it is how you use it, so to speak!

I truly believe that confidence plays a big part in success whether it is in a match or if you are after a specimen fish.  Confidence in all things, self, tackle methods and bait.  Of course luck plays a part but the odds can be reduced if you have confidence.  There is though nothing like also having an edge and so to my story.

I was reminded the other day on speaking with my friend and long time adversary Mr. Darler of a story told to me by Lacy Anderson.  The story centres around his brothers, Percy and George and I guess over time it has altered a little but the crutch of the matter is that Percy always looked to gain an edge.  Combine this with total confidence almost bordering on arrogance and you get a lethal force.  You see Percy, George and Lacy fished as a team with the likes of John Hurst and others.  The leagues at their height were massive and to win then was truly a feat.  Percy would surely scoff at the so-called feats of modern day league anglers who pat each other for coming second in a section of 10!  The leagues I am talking about were 200 strong affairs with sections of 25.  Any way one such league was to be held on the Cam and the Pimpernels were in the race for top spot.  They needed to sort out a method and so Percy devised a plan.  George was off to practise on the section; Percy though had to pull out at the last minute.  Undeterred though he told brother George “Look brother fish a 6 x 6 stick float you know the ones Benny made us (no not Benny of Crossroads, but the legendary Ashurst)   Fish small sloppy balls of ground bait with squat, feeding regularly the fish will come up in to the water.  You will have a day to remember.  Those of you who knew Percy would know he had this authoritative voice.  He would raise and lower the tone to signal authority and confidence.  Yes he sure installed this in brother George.

Convinced he was going to have a good day off he went.  Bear in mind this method was devised 40 years ago and you will understand why I smile at some of the “New” tactics our youngsters come up with!  Anyhow 4 or 5 hours later George re-appeared in Percy’s tackle shop having spent his time practising on the Cam.  Percy appeared form the back, having just riddled some casters.  George looked glum “How did you do brother?”  Percy enquired.  “I really did not do very well, I tried and tried but just could not get the method to work.”  Percy paused, placing a bag of casters on the counter and said, “I knew it wasn’t going to be the method.”  We will fish casters down the edge of the margin weed.”  George’s jaw dropped, his brother had convinced him to fish a method, but only to rule it out!  Confidence you see.  Mind you it would have been no good as a practice if he had not instilled confidence in his brother.  Not only had Percy sorted out an edge but the cheeky so and so had got his brother to eliminate a method and on his brother’s day off!  These mind games are still played out between his apprentices well, Compo Darler and Batersby Tweed but we ain’t half as good as Percy.  Mind you Mr. Darler is getting a bit worried he has even asked to do the Match Reports because he is worried what might next be printed.  Bloody cheek I say.

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THE DAWN RAIDERS - NETHERGROVE LAKE

This is a magical little place, just outside the former barracks at Oakington and in the village of Longstanton. I have many stories about this place, which has been developed by individuals within our Club.

Percy always claimed it was ‘his’ idea but as in many things it was his brother Lacy who first brought about CFPAS acquiring the lake.

When I first saw it I must admit I did wonder what we were doing.  Basically we walked through this overgrown field complete with stumps and old dead trees lying on the muddy ground.  Like huge termite mounds scattered around the site were little piles of sandy clay and behind these little mounds were water filled channels dug in to the ground. Basically someone had run riot with a JCB and extended an existing ancient pond – it was like someone’s pond in their back garden complete with little islands along with the large overgrown island of the main pond.  Huge dead trees lay in the pond and poking through the black silt old bits of iron barbed wire and even an old Lambretta.

This was not the sight I had hoped to see, not a lovely farm pond but a mess.  Yet still I could see the potential and the magic of the place. 

This story is about the lake’s early development, which inevitably had input from my friend Percy.

What we first saw was not a fishery, we did see a whole lot of fry, which moved, around the lake like black clouds.  A prolific breeding pond?  Certainly, a potential fishery yes!  If we could do some work on it.

CFPAS Ltd first venture in developing a fishery.  The huge digger moved on to site, piece of cake, just dig out this little island, form a bank, then level this.  Well, we did not bank on the rain, it turned everything into a slurry with the huge Volvo digger slipping and sliding.  Basically the soil structure on the site is a  relatively thin layer of top soil with this clay green sand stuff about a foot below.  With the tonnage of the digger and the rain the digger just slid over the site.  We had to bridge the ditch to get to the pond – basically we filled it in – shhh  - don’t tell anyone! – well we dug it out when we left!  So what’s the problem?

Now the bloke who was driving the machine was not use to creating a lake more like working on a motorway.  – Lesson one! Don’t just hire a digger man.

I telephoned Percy to tell him of my concern. “Percy it’s not going well!”  “Whats up son?”  “Well I can’t get through to the bloke who is digging the lake”.  I could hear a huge breath as Percy drew on his roll up cigarette.  “Leave it with me son, I’ll put a few fxxxxs into him”.  This comforted me no end. I could see a punch-up looming on the bank.  The committee had only awarded us a £1,000 to do the work and as usual we were trying to get as much done for as little money.  All the next day I could not concentrate pacing up and down in the office.  I need not have worried.  That night the phone rang, it was Codshead “Hello son, it Percy Pickles here, how are you old son”? I was anxious to know how the day had gone and Percy opted to milk it like a good one!  Eventually he told me the day had gone well having had his little discussion with the digger man – so much so that the machine would be off the next day having completed the work we had wanted.

Before work the next day I was up at 4am and shot over to the site.  In front of me through the gloom of early morning mist was a lake, yes the slurry around the site was as if we had had a landslide but this little lake sat proud.

Little did I realise that this was the start of an adventure with many highs and lows.  A venue where Percy and I having completed planting 100 small trees and shrubs in the snow and sleet shook hands.  Percy sand “I don’t think I will live to see these as proper trees son!”  Of course you will I told him and yes he did.

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RIVER CAM – THE TOWPATH

The River Cam is my favourite river. I have for 40 years walked and cycled along   from Chesterton to Clayhithe, so I suppose I am biased but there is such variety of scenery to capture your imagination.  On my visits I have witnessed all manner of wild life from the birds picking the berries off the bushes behind the towpath in the depth of winter, birds of prey, foxes and deer – fantastic.

Its a funny thing, you can go somewhere and nothing out of the ordinary occurs time and time again yet at a particular spot something always seems to occur and this is the case on a certain spot on the Cam.

The first time I fished on the bend just above the plough PH opposite Fen Ditton was as an 11 year old.  One hot evening my Dad took me fishing. For some reason my father took me along the towpath from the Pike and Eel PH to this special spot.  Quite a walk especially as it was evening.  The pace of life was much slower in those days the summer evenings seemed to last much longer.  It was the late 60’s and as I clutched my little fishing rod, tobacco tin full of lobworms and a greaseproof wrapped custard flavoured dough ball I could see in the distance the church and large house opposite at Fen Ditton.  I remember being excited, as I had never fished here before.  As we approached my Dad gazed across the river and seemed a little anxious.  I looked across and could see a group of people setting up tents in a field in front of the church.  To me they appeared to be wearing the same tops.  My father stopped, looked and then said “lets fish here”.  I looked across but my Dad shouted, “Don’t stare” “Why”  I replied, kids do that don’t they!  My Dad kind of half looked and half busied himself trying to concentrate on me catching a fish.

I looked across again “Look if you don’t concentrate we will pack up”.  They were all girls, blonde, slender and topless!  I had never seen such a thing and of course as kids do I was somewhat curious and kept asking questions. “Why are they wearing no tops Dad?”  Shhhhh.  My Dad half-looking, half not.  They are Scandinnavian” “Whats that Dad?”

May be this fist sight of female breast has drawn me to this spot, a sort of subliminal thing but there have been other notable  occasions over the years.

When I was about 17 years old CFPAS were competing against Oxford APS – an annual event and one held in the same way as Oxford V Cambridge rowing is today.  The rivalry was intense; we always had a lovely trophy to present and a proper tea afterwards!   The banks were lined from Chesterton almost to Baitsbite Lock.  One of our lads, Lacy Anderson, was bagging up.  I had never witnessed such a catch, I think it was 46 lb of Roach and to this day I do not believe there has been such a Roach catch in a match on the Cam.  Yes you have guessed it, the catch came from the very spot where me and my Dad stood some years prior.

The bend is quite pronounced here and on the tow path side the depth is under your feet opposite is a little cut with a single boat house which is used to house a beautiful steam river boat.

The cut narrows into a ditch and it was here that I was to be caught fishing when I should have been somewhere else.  Yet again in this special place.

The end of the season was upon us and in those days it meant 12 or so weeks before we could go fishing again on 16th June.  It was the last day of the season in March, a Monday, which coincided with my Day Release at college. – Funny thing that, I was studying for my Higher National Diploma in Business Studies at the Tech 1pm until 9pm.  Along with all the other sufferers trying to gain City and Guilds for two years I toiled.  Not this day!  You see my first lecture was 1pm and then from 2 until 4pm we had ‘private study’ with lectures 4pm until 9pm.  God knows why, it was I’m sure punishment.  Most of the time we spent playing table football or in the park but after gazing out from the lecture room I was off home at 2pm an on the river by 2.30pm.  I was to snatch those last few hours on the Cam before the enforced layoff.  Not so!  As I tackled up I could hear the shout of oarsmen, Cox and Coaches, “easy all” paddle light”  “Ahead sculler”! undeterred.  I set about fishing the little inlet opposite the scene of Lacy’s triumph and on the same side of the river I had seen my first topless lady.  Now do bear in mind I was bunking off.  Also I am of a nervous disposition and whilst I thought my employers would not get to know I had left college early my cover was to be blown.  It was the Lent Bumps, race after race started up and hordes of followers screaming their support on their bikes went by on the far bank.  Ok so I could put up with this but not what occurred next.  A group of cameramen appeared including a guy holding one of those long furry things to sound record.  Yes! The whole thing was being filmed for about Anglia our local TV station and it was going out on the news with me in full view.  I could not fish and slunk home worried sick that my boss would see me later on the T.V fishing.

On another occasion at the very same spot I witnessed a phenomenal event, this time in the closed season.  Hundreds and hundreds of Roach and Bream thrashing around like piranha close to the bank where the tree roots entered into the water.  Such was the activity of the spawning fish there were two fish flapping out of the water.

Also on this bend, I witnessed my first shag on the riverbank.  The bird was drying it wings in the sun.  Little would I realise in all its magnificent glory spread eagled on the bank edge that some years later it’s cousin the cormorant would be the scourge of fisheries around the country.  A truly magical place on the Cam where I can see Percy fishing puffing on his cigarette with his little dog Jimmy by his side.

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THE DAWN RAIDERS - After Dace

Percy and I would plan our fishing expeditions on Thursday evenings.   I would make the phone call and find out where we were heading for.  To be fair Percy always asked where I fancied going.  “What do you reckon then son?”  “I’ve heard the 100ft is fishing really well with plenty of Skimmers, Percy”.  Percy drew on his cigarette,  “Hmmmmm, well yes, but we are going after Dace”.  Now for once I did get excited about the prospect of going for this pretty little fish.  When I first started fishing they were common in and around Cambridge.

As a kid with a little 6ft spring rod, a centre pin reel and a couple of bobbin floats.  Gudgeon and Dace were the fish we often caught and so the prospect of targeting the Dace on my one day out was mouth watering.  “Ok the Percy, where are we going?”  Another pause “The Ouse” Ouse? Yus!  “Oh the upper Ouse at St.Ives”.  “New, new,(Percy speak) no son!”  The Ouse near where the big planes are!”  “The stars and stripes ones” “What sort of bakie are you puffing on Percy?”  “Listen don’t get smart son, on the Ouse near Middlemenhall, no Lakerheath, that Little River that runs in to the Ouse”.  “Oh the Little Ouse near Mildenhall, yes, yes, yes.  Right thats it, we are off to the Little Ouse.  I would pick Percy up at 6.30am load up my little escort car, spin down the A10 on a dull autumn day.  I was once asked how come I always drove, was it Percy taking advantage?  Well you know you see if you ever travelled with Percy you would know that he would always have a cigarette on, ash just about to drop on the floor, Jimmy dog hanging on his should with his nose poking out of the top of the window.  However the main reason was that I never saw his petrol gauge anywhere near above the empty mark.  I just did not fancy being stuck out in the Fens with no prospect of getting any petrol for miles.  So it was my choice and for my own safety.

An hour passed as we drove around “where exactly is this place Percy?”  “I told you son near the big planes, where they fly in near the army base.  “Airbase, Percy, Mildenhall”  “yes yes!”.  Down the A10 we went for the umpteenth time looking for a track to take us across the Fen .  “Over there!”.  I did an emergency stop, reversed and off we went down a single track towards the airbase.  We drove for quite some time.  Remember, this was in a time when there was no Satnav, so we were really just trying to guess.

I can genuinely say that not once on a Sunday did I ever bag up when fishing with Percy.  In the week Percy would always get good catches.  So, really were our Dawn Raids, to suss out things for Percy or did he set them up to appreciate the environment?

We drew up to a high bank and saw a little bridge.  We had just passed a line of huge Poplar trees and with the sound of the wind in their leaves it sounded as if there was a waterfall nearby.  Up the bank we went.  The river was clear with streamer weed and was flowing quite fast.  It looked spot on for our quest for the Dace.  I really fancied it and could not wait to get at it.  We stumbled down the bank “This ain’t it son!”.  But Percy it is perfect “Na” “Down there son” pointing to acquire some carrots growing in a field.  Now the ground conditions were quite dry and so I think Percy only got one carrot out with half a row left with their tops off.  He resorted to scraping the soil around the carrot tops and managed to get about four out in the end.  Then we were off again this time drawing up a dead end near some farm buildings and a field of onions.  Yes, you have guessed it Percy started filling his keep net with loads of onions.  It was around 11.30am and no sign of a river and frankly I had all but given up.  Percy looked up in to the sky and decided it was going to rain and that we must get off back home.

As we set off gradually the car filled with the waft of onions, which must have prompted Percy to think about what he was going to do with them.  “I’m going to make a French Onion soup”.  “French Onion soup?” yes Percy replied. Not knowing much about cooking in those days – my only experience being Fannie Craddock on the T.V.  How do you make it?  “French Onion soup?”  Thinking that was some magic French thing.  I don’t think Percy really knew – I’m not suggesting he could not cook – on the contrary he just could not explain it.  How do you make it French Percy?  Now I was starting to piss him off but hey I was getting him back for not fishing.  Surely its onion soup Percy.  “No, no its French Onion soup” and I’m going to put some seeds on the carrots, “what?”  Seeds on them, you are going to plant them back and put seeds on them”, no son cover them with seeds” carriage way seeds.  Remember this was at a time when there were no ‘fancy chefs’ like Jamie Oliver, so this dish was quite innovative.  Yes “I put them in the oven with some carriage way (carroway seeds) on them to give them flavour – “Oh!”.

When I next catch up with Percy’s daughter I must find out if she had fried onions for weeks after our little expedition.

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THE DAWN RAIDERS - Greg’s Stories

Greg Pettit virtually lived in Percy’s fishing tackle shop from the age of 11 years old.  He would prepare the casters, clean off the maggots and serve behind the counter.   Greg probably has the most stories to tell of adventures with the person he called father.

But first I must tell you how Greg and I first met you see.  I was encouraged to fish my first junior match by Percy on Histon’s water on the Old West.  My father dutifully transported me and a couple of kids to the match, which was held at Locksplit on the Old West.  Despite having a reel with the handle the wrong way round for a left-hander like me and despite fishing a wire stemmed stick float I managed to come third out of 60 youngsters which kind of elevated me to the attention of Mr. Anderson and indeed with the other kids. I was a very shy little boy and so meeting up with these rufty tufty lot from the Coleridge area of Cambridge was quite an experience for me.

The CFPAS Junior Match at Baitsbite Lock.  One hundred or so kinds all crammed round the Lock.  Masses of prizes and glittering trophies – I was hooked.  I drew a peg almost opposite Horningsea Church – a spot that has remained a favourite of mine on the Cam.  This was at a time when anglers would wade in the water to get presentation of their stick floats spot on.  Of course us lads would copy our elders and so there we were complete with green waders and those funny green visors that Card sharks use to have – all part of the fashion of the day you see.  We must have looked ridiculous like frogs with green legs.  My Dad helped me to my swim and as I was already almost a champion and one of Percy’s “New boys”  I must admit I had a bit of a swagger about me.  All this changed as I had the horror of one of Percy’s top boys below me.  Yes Mr. Pettit.  I had never experienced anything like what was to happen coming from a quiet background.  Basically Greg talked for the complete four hours of the match.  He would shout up oooou I have got another one or wey hey hey it’s a Gudgeon or would give me graphic details of how he was fishing.  Greg’s technique in fishing and in particular his stick float presentation is second to none, however his constant changing of depth and shots I feel has often hampered him. My nerves were shot with his “I’ve got another one” or ooo aaah.  I was shattered and well beaten but still got invited to the Junior Match group meeting by Percy.  Quite frankly I don’t remember much about the team talk because Percy was really quite hard to follow – basically to learn from him you needed to watch.

So after two pints of light and bitter - what an 11 year old – I know, I know Percy said it was alright!  Who should appear in the Gents but Greg.  Hello again he said in his chirpy voice and went to stand at the long black stone urinal.  This was my first time drinking a couple of pints and so I was a little embarrassed it was going on so long.  Greg unzipped, stood to my left but back a little from the cold smelly slab.  You know us blokes when this sort of thing happens just stare into space but I could not help but admire the distance and range my friend was achieving.  Blimey, I thought, were things ever going to change for little me!  When Greg shook up, the sound was like a lasso for the second time in a month I was quite in awe.  I learnt a few years later from Tony Phillips that Greg really could have made a mint from movies such is his manhood or is it a weapon of mass destruction!

It is fair to say that partly due to Greg’s unbelievable kind nature that it always seemed that he did all the work for Percy. I was treated differently – being the poet and all! Percy recognised the sensitive side of me so I never got into the scrapes Greg seemed to.

On one such occasion Greg was charged with looking over Percy’s paint pots while Percy was up the ladder painting a shop sign.  It was somewhere in Cambridge where the pavement backs on to one of those concrete graveyards with ancient stones that appear to just about be standing up.  There was railing behind where Percy was working which identified the boundary to the Church grounds.  Greg never really took to painting and decorating and on this hot summers day just kept on chattering and on one occasion passing up to Percy another paint pot.  All passed well for a couple of hours until Percy demanded “Don’t move the ladder” but reach across and overstretched.  He cried out as he fell back from the ladder towards the spiked railings.  Greg could do nothing as Percy fell, he landed against the railing on his back both arms raised as if in surrender, one arm falling between railing and the other the same.  His head and neck fell against the railing but remarkably just at the spot there was one spike missing and so his neck just fell against the crossbar.  Percy jumped up and apart from some bruising and a few scratches was unhurt. One of Percy’s nine lives! 

Please let me have your stories for our Dawn Raider Section.

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THE DAWN RAIDERS - Ian’s Story

Inertia property of matter by which it continues in existing state of rest or motion unless acted on by external forces.

Yes, we have turned over a new leaf on this website and gone all “Educoutional” as Percy would say!

Many years ago a certain very skinny Master Darler was one of a group of youngsters who enjoyed success in the CFPAS Junior Team.  These lads were the “second generation” who received master tuition from Percy.  Such names as Mick Dant, Dave Lindsay, Snowy Ison, John Calder and Tim Drake were amongst the group.   Percy’s two-week summer courses were legendary, the lads received talks and demonstrations in the Seven Stars pub next to Percy’s fishing tackle shop.  They would be shown how to tie hooks, make floats from peacock quill, anything Percy could think up.  I remember at the time that Percy had developed the use of a very long quills, sometimes 18 inches and called them big Berthas.  He would get the lads to make them some with black tips, some with red.  The good ones he kept to share out with his team mates in the Pimpernel Teams (including myself).

The floats these lads made were fantastic with really neat paint jobs.  Many- though landed on the floor of the pub broken in two, as Percy would deem them not fit purpose, my words not his!  Hours and hours were spent making the floats and I could never see the difference in the “good ones and the bad ones” but Percy could and strangely he never lost any friends when he broke our floats!  The teach-ins were also used as team talks as Percy had gathered together lads who were to fish against Gipping juniors and in the Junior National.  It was at such a meeting that Mr. Darler learnt about inertia.  It was Percy explaining the principle about float fishing and what happens in the water to the float when you get a bite all very technical stuff and something Ian took to heart.

Ian on his own admission will tell you that his schooldays were torture.  He longed to be outside rather than doing all this book stuff and so when it came to the “ word of the week” Ian remembered what Percy had taught him “Inertia, miss”  He spelt it and explained what it meant.  The look on the young miss’s face must have been a picture.  “Where did that come from?”   Ian’s interest in such things as words and spelling had been limited as a nine year old.  So Ian told his teacher from whom he had learnt the word “from Percy Anderson”.  The teacher was so impressed,  Ian was awarded a gold star, which was to be his first and last in his entire schooling.

From what Ian tells me his teacher must have been relishing the following weeks word of the week from Ian as she thought that with the help of Percy here was a young lad making progress.  Anyhow, back at school the teacher asked “what have you to tell us this week”?  Ian chirped up with equal enthusiasm.  You see the teaching he had received about inertia was part of Percy’s briefing for the youngsters trip to the River Welland on the Saturday something all the youngsters were looking forward to and of course after the trip young Mr. Darler was full of it as he had never been out of Cambridgeshire to fish let alone with a group of youngsters lead by the Pied Piper.

So come the following week at school and the inevitable question Ian was positively bursting to share his experience.  “Well miss us lads were taken to fish the River Welland in Lincolnshire with Percy Anderson”.  The teacher welcomed this news as she had witnessed the master’s teachings and the influence he had on Ian.  Yes Ian exclaimed ”Mr. Anderson explained a lot Miss” tell us she said.  Well you see when we arrived I was desperate for the toilet” Hmmm yes so I asked Mr. Anderson what should I do.  Now imagine this skinny little kid in a large group of lively lads all of who had just had a greasy breakfast oh no, oh yes! Percy in his usual manner was quite dismissive,  “Well go over there then son” His booming voice with that characteristic change in tone scolded the young lad.  “Mr. Anderson you don’t understand”  I neeeeed to go to the toilet”!  Oh, oh, Percy replied and then putting on his matter of fact voice he guided Ian to a barbed wire fence put over a towel on the spikey rail “look son climb on here drop your trouser and sit on the edge of the fence”  Percy advised young Ian in a way as if saying look son how come you don’t know this, I’m busy just get on with it.  So Ian did, but then the little nuisance chirped up “what do I use for paper Percy?!  Now the master was getting impatient he reached out into the River Welland and pulled up a Lilly leaf and handed it to Ian along with an empty crisp packed, use this son”  This teach in was clearly on Ian’s mind as he told his teacher.  “Yes Miss I learnt how to do a crap outside.  This was Ians word and teaching of the week.  The young miss was less than impressed and gave a black mark against Ian and told  him  to stand in the corner, one of many he would receive at school.  A bit harsh especially for a nine year old.Still not much harm has come of it!

On this same trip many of the lads were to meet him for the first time and the local school rivalries would cause great banter and fights.  A lad called Peter challis always seemed to get picked on quite why no one knew.  Anyhow on the way back the kind Mr. Anderson took everyone into this huge Fish and Chip Shop.  Imagine it, Percy and Frank Morgan and 10 or 12 lads all in this shop.  The inevitable fights broke out and there was this almighty din.  Undetermined err undeterred, Percy growled, pack it in else you wont get any.  It stopped except for the usual barging into each other.  “Now what doe you want!?”  Percy exclaimed.  I’ll have sausage and chips, I’ll have pie.

The joker of the pack Mick Dant pressed his face to the counter and exclaimed “I’ll have cods head and chips”, everyone fell about laughing! The chip lady turned and went to get the cod stopped in her tracks as if to acknowledge “Did I just hear right?”  Look son stop being funny Percy growled “OK codshead” Mick replied.  So this is how Percy got his nickname ‘Codshead’.  Some of you will be thinking it is a bit cheeky especially after the generosity of Mr. Anderson buying the chips but spare a thought for Frank, as it was him that lent a fiver to Percy to buy the chips!  Never to be seen again – quality.

THE DAWN RAIDERS RISE AGAIN...

It has been a while since telling another story as in the main they have centred on my fishing experiences with my friend Percy.  However, my dawn raiding now concentrates on our Club Fishing Match scene. The lads are all very much friends and are willing to help one another out, well except Ian Darler and myself.  You see, as well as being the grumpy old men of the group we have adopted Percy- speak and Percy don’t tell the truth speak.  It’s getting quite extreme.

Let me explain, as youngsters Percy would encourage us to go fishing, he would show us how to make floats, tie hooks, shot lines etc.  Oh yes and if the floats were any good he would put them in his pocket and break the other ones he did not like.  Yes!  Snap them in two.  Can you imagine it, the little lad spending hours making them only to see them on the floor in pieces.   how Percy remained unchallenged by this severe and I have to say random action I do not know.  He also taught us to be cagey about how we were catching in matches going to extremes of concealing baits on hooks, methods etc. Did we ever learn anything? I don’t know but one thing is for sure being students of the bullshit, Ian and I are up there.

This season’s series of matches started off o.k. with a sort of openness between the two of us but it soon deteriorated.  Pegged side by side but separated by a huge reed bed so that we could not see each other  at Mepal was the start of things. 1 hour into the match and Ian reported with his booming voice that his son was doing well but he could not get a bite.  I confessed to catching a Perch but really I had three and two Roach.  Two hours into the match and Ian reported that things were very poor indeed and I confessed the same despite adding another two Roach to my net.  I kept hearing splashes but that’s not unusual with Ian because he is not half measure, mainly often lumping in great qualities of bait.  It was really windy so I opted for a small feeder with a light hook length down to a size 16.  Apart from a little Perch which whacked round the tip it remained motionless until just when I was having a cup of coffee (always happens) the tip not only went round but the rod was pulled into the lake.  This is a lake known for its Carp so I thought here we go!

I gripped the rod, struck and true enough I met with a solid resistance.  The thing was that it did not scuttle off but just kind of thumped occasionally.  Gradually I brought the fish over the shallow bar and to the landing net.  It decided to go mental just at the net and yes, ping went the hook.  A 2 lb Bream lost at the net.  Because of the wind and because I could not be seen, Ian was none the wiser, so I did not say anything.  Out went the feeder and no sooner had it loaded it winched round but sadly it was not another Bream but a skinny little Perch – undeterred I set about it again and just as I was about to recast the tip moved slightly then drew away in that characteristic Bream fashion.  Over the next couple of hours I added four more Bream until it went quiet. 

I then decided to go on the long pole over some Hemp which I had put in earlier and bang I was into a decent Roach, then another, then another until I got hooked up on some discarded line which messed up my pole rig.  Right, out went my little feeder while I sorted out my rig.  I confessed to Ian I was catching Roach on Hemp which was probably not a good idea as he started to catch the other side of where I had put my Hemp. Then my tip moved and moved again, I struck but this time the fish went off like a steam engine straight through some rushes and out into the middle of the lake.  I let it run but just kept the pressure on.  Just like the scene in ‘Jaws’, the fish stopped out in the middle and then turned and headed back towards me.  Frantically I gained line only for the fish to zip through the rushes again and sulk the other side.  I could feel the fish was still on but the line above the fish was caught on the rushes. I held the strain for a bit and lent into the fish.  Nothing happened, I put more pressure on then all of a sudden the fish surfaced thrashed around and came out the way it went in phew!  My 16 hook and 3 lb hook length held firm and a lovely Common of around 6 lb was in my net.

I confessed to Ian, well I could hardly not admit it considering all the commotion..  When young Dudley shouted up behind me “that’s a lovely fish” when I was adding my sixth Bream to the net my bluff was definitely blown.  Still 2nd in the match and kept it quiet for 5 hours.  The situation has been recently reversed though, on our latest encounter on the River Lark.  Another story to tell!

The Dawn Raiders ride again!

THE LAST DAWN RAID – PERCY AND I

Dawn Raiding is a term Percy and I used to describe our fishing exploits.  We were always out fishing at dawn, summer or winter we would get up to some crazy things all above board!

It was our mutual love of nature that meant we experienced many a dawn chorus or seeing a fox make its way back to its hiding place, coming face to face with a deer on the tow path on the Cam – all sorts of things that most people don’t see.

This is the story of our last dawn raid together:

But first...

I must have been 11 or 12 when I first met Percy outside his shop in Newmarket Road waiting to go on a trip with a load of other kids.  It was at a time when you would get 200 Peg Open Matches on the Cam and Ouse every weekend and there would always be a junior angling section in these matches, so us kids often got to go along.

Percy and his brothers had taken the match scene by storm having learnt the art of fishing the castor with his “friends from up North”.  The Anderson brothers and their close-angling friends called themselves the ‘Pimpernels’. They won so much coin they often had to turn up late at the draw because if they were seen in the queue other anglers would not go into the pools.

As a lad I was expected to help out and prepare the bait for the older ones.  There would be two or three of us having to do this early on Sunday mornings while Percy and his chums sat eating breakfast.  I would often see Ivan Marks and Eddy Allen in Percy’s front room waiting to go off to a match on the Cam or Ouse.  Sometimes we were lucky and got to go to the match otherwise it was a half a pint of maggots and fish the Cam!

My life so far has been heavily influenced by what I consider a single-minded but caring character.  In more recent times as well as referring to me as a son Percy called me the “poet”, a reference to writing that I had published as a kid.  Still we referred to him as ‘Codshead’ so I guess we are even.

It was Percy that first persuaded me at 15 years to go on to the CFPAS Ltd Committee, then to be Secretary and then finally as President of this great club.  He has helped me through some difficult times!  He would not usually say much, something like “You have broad shoulders son, you can carry the burden”.  He knew I found it hard to speak at public occasions but still he pushed me forward.  He also knew that I give great thought to things, trying to ensure I did right.

We occasionally crossed swords, usually on angling administration matters, something Percy had little time for.  This world of rules and regulations is not for the likes of Percy, he hated it.

I have spent many hours in his company but only just recently received his approval.

Apparently apart from one or two little points I might make a half decent angler!  Talk to many of his other friends and you will inevitably get a different take about their relationship. I know for instance that throughout his life my friend Ian Darler has had his ear clipped on many an occasion even up until the last Club Match! Percy and I were very close but sort of on the basis, “You all right” “Yes I’m alright” we had an instinctive form of communication.  Percy would in the main tell me what to do!  Some people are also saying that they have ended up with a variation of Percy speak!  You know saying the wrong words and so I guess there will be Tweed speak now that he has gone.

On and off over the years we have fished together however over the past ten years this has not been the case as we kind of drifted apart on the angling front.  Percy preferring to fish all day on Sundays whereas I preferred to be home for lunch.  I had also drifted away from actually fishing preferring to visit all our waters on a Sunday bailiffing for the Club.

All this changed this last year or so with my attendances at our Club matches.  I know this was something Percy was pleased to see and despite some health issues he attempted to come along to them until the cold weather prevented him from fishing.  So it was to be one of our Club matches that he and I would re-kindle our fishing experiences as we drew pegs side by side in our Club match on the River Lark in October.

His face was a picture when he leaned out of the window of Dave Cooper’s van and shouted to me “Where you drawn son?”  he bellowed.  “12 Percy”, I replied.  A quiet moment as Percy realised he had drawn next to me then, out of the van he sprang, it was almost that this discovery had given him renewed vigour for here we were going to fish together again.

The Lark flood bank is very steep yet he endeavoured to make his way to his peg without our help.  A very proud and strong man.   I held out my hand and he clasped it firmly as I pulled him up to the top.  He whispered to me that he hated needing this help.  I just said, “I know, don’t worry Percy” he held my hand for a moment longer.  It was rough with all the years of fishing and doing the many things he had done. It was late October and the mist was still rising from the river.  The bank was sodden as we tackled up and covered with those dewy cobwebs.  The river had a tinge of colour and good flow following mid-week rains.  There was very little wind, which is quite unusual for the Fen; the sun was quite strong making for a lovely warm Autumn day.  I knew Percy loved the sun on his back.  I could see the glint in his eye; Percy was going to enjoy the day.  Not because he wanted to beat me off the next peg but because we were going to fish side by side once more.

There was an extra edge, the tutor/pupil thing.  He even started his spoof antics – by pretending to tackle up with different tackle but I knew he would fish the waggler and in turn I decided to do the same.  Throughout the match, I kept getting the sideways look, and then he would pretend not to be looking.  It was all part of him trying to ‘psych’ me out.  He of course knew I would not be taken in; it was just a game he played and was clearly enjoying it.  I would get the shin din bit as well, where I would call up to him and he would ignore me.

The first 1½ hours of the match just flew by.  I tried to keep up but continually fell back as Percy snared a better stamp of Roach to myself.

I was positioned in the peg above Percy with the river flowing right to left.  Every effort of concentration was going into his fishing.  He was indeed relishing the challenge and it was truly a magnificent demonstration of waggler fishing that I was witnessing.  I kept plugging away but felt I was always behind and just hoped he would tire. The odd word would be exchanged between us; Percy continued to pretend to kid me.  I in turn would try and sneak a few fish into my net without him seeing and then I would net one or two to try and kid him.  They were not big fish.  Silly little things that we have always done when we have fished together.  Roach, Rudd and the occasional Perch made their way into our nets.  A Kingfisher whizzed by, and I shouted up “Did you see that?”  Of course he did as he shared the same love of the natural environment as myself.

Percy kept a true line as we went into the last hour of the match; the number of fish going into our nets became less frequent.  We were enjoying the company and the lovely warm weather.  We had become oblivious to the others that were fishing the match, in fact it was an irrelevance, the day had become all about he and I and our thoughts on past trips.  I found myself reflecting on these memories but at the same time I did not want to have a duff catch so I kept plugging on.  I had been fishing a shorter line than Percy and so decided to go further out and fish the far bank.  This change resulted in an instant response and I was then into catching Rudd on a more regular basis.  Slowly I started to peg back on Percy and I would see him turning his head to check my catch out.

Yes, there was a competitive edge between us but it was just friendly rivalry and as the final whistle went I felt quite honoured to have been in his company.

At the whistle the sun started to recede behind the flood bank.  Percy returned his catch.  After weighing in neither of us had bothered much at the scales.  We knew we had come nowhere in the match but we also knew that we had appreciated fishing together which to us was equal to winning.  It was quite an overwhelming experience, a day to cherish.  I make no excuse over the sentimental nature of this story because I hope it sums up all  that is good about our sport.

This was our last dawn raid and probably the most memorable of them all, a day filled with sunshine and laughter.  The only thing that was missing was his little dog Jimmy.

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Some years ago when I used to go around with Percy on what we called our Dawn Raider, Percy would do us a pack-up.  I would always get a call on Thursday evenings, on the lines of: Percy “Well son where do you fancy going fishing this Sunday?”  “Well Percy I hear the Hundred Foot is fishing well”.

“No, mate, the River lark, that’s where we are going!” “OK Percy” why he ever bothered to ask me I just don’t know but hey he, as he would on occasion point out, is the ‘Elder Statesman’.

So it was off to the Lark and yes, whilst I was up at dawn it was not until 7am that we finally got off to the river from his house!  To be fair Percy had made some bacon sarnies and wrapped them neatly in tin foil and so I had them to look forward to later in the day.  I had this fear that one day we would return to his home and find it burnt down.  You see his electric oven had somehow had its knobs burnt and Percy had to turn on the hobs with a pair of pinchers.  To have a cup of tea you had to put a butchers weight on the ‘ON, knob of the kettle to keep it down.  I never understood why or how the items got broken especially as they were relatively new.  Anyhow we got to the River lark on a blowy September morning, the river was stationary and gin clear you could see the bottom from Prickwillow Bridge.  Now this should have been the signal for us to go to the Hundred Foot and fish in the tidal where we would find colour in the water but no.  The Lark was the place to fish.  Two hours later I had two small Roach and a Perch.

The boredom was only briefly interrupted by a visit form Percy’s little dog Jimmy who would every now and then come shuffling along to see me wagging his tail and making this little snuffling sound.  He would climb all over my tackle, break pole rigs and generally make a nuisance of himself and then bugger off back to Percy.

Enough was enough, the lure of those bacon butties was too much and so I negotiated my way through the stingers and those horrible plants that leave millions of little sticky balls on your clothes.  “Come for some grub son” Percy said, “Yes, Percy, I have only caught three fish!” “Oh well son, here you are”  Percy handed me this huge package.  Jimmy got excited, as he would always get fed some of the bacon.

“I made em this morning with top back bacon!” (Best back) I’ve got this new bread made in Australia, its loovelly”, it’s called ‘Mighty Bright’” (mighty white) its sort of half brown, half white”.  “Sounds good to me Percy”, I replied.  Percy never skimped on the ingredients.  The butties had three huge bits of bacon in them and were doused with copious amounts of tomato sauce, I like mine with brown, but I always got the red stuff!  Mighty white bread had sort of brown flecks in it, so as I bit into one I did not notice anything untoward.  Anyhow as I stood by Percy chomping on my sandwich I tasted something not to my liking.  I immediately spat it out with bits flying into the river just next to where Percy was fishing.  Percy was quite startled by this and a little offended.  “Look here son, that’s not very nice, I went to a lot of trouble in making them and you should be grateful!”  “I am Percy”, I replied, “its just that they taste funny” “what are you on about?” mines fine, Percy gulping down another bite.  “Look Percy” I opened up one of the sandwiches to reveal large amounts of blue/green mould.  “Look Percy they are mouldy”, now Percy did not take kindly to this statement and was just about to sound off with some choice words when he saw the extent of the mould.  “I can’t understand it, I got the bread out fresh to day.  Give it here son.

Percy picked out the bacon with his maggot-stained fingers and handed the bacon to me, he threw the bread to the ducks and carried on fishing.  Nice!

I know many of you have met with our friend Percy and so if you have a funny story or event where Percy has been along then please do let us know.

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Percy and the Summer League Match

If you are of a nervous disposition or of queasy constitution then perhaps it is best you don’t read on because although this story ha been recounted many times over a pint in the pub, it has never been put in to the written word.  Who else would the story evolve around but Percy, aka Codshead, Greengrass and sometimes Fagin!