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Dents Lakes, at Hilgay
Percy had been
fishing these matches for several seasons. The matches were run by Tim and
Sid Cooper. A very light-hearted affair, but with some good quality anglers
attending. I was invited to fish these matches by Percy as somebody had
dropped out. I agreed and on the first match was given a guide of how to
fish the venue by Percy, as I had not seen the lake before. I was given a
real lesson on the day as Mr. Anderson gave me and everybody else a bloody
good hiding as he bagged a number of good Chub and large Carp. I walked
down to see Percy during the match to see what he was catching on, he had
seen me coming, he cast his pole line as I arrived, you are doing well
Percy. “Not bad son”, he sat not really looking at his float, a few minutes
later lifting his line out of the water, “Your bait gone” I said. “No it
hasn’t, I took it off before you got here”. “What are you catching on
Percy?” “Can you keep a secret?” he said. “Yes course I can” “So can I” he
said “Now feck off and let me get on". Now at the end of the match I said
to Percy “I really struggled on the bait you told me to fish”. “That’s
funny” he said, so did I when I tried last time we were here”. Everybody
was told the story and could not stop themselves laughing.
I fished two of
the series over at Dents and had to carry Percy’s tackle, set his box up,
get his kit out of the rod bag due to his health problems. On one day I had
taken the tackle from the van to the bank, set up the gear for Percy and got
on with fishing the match as normal when four hours later into the match
another angler came and sat behind me, he said “You are mates with Percy, he
does not seem very well, will you go and see him”. On seeing Percy he was
struggling, I said, “What’s the matter mate”? Percy said, “The cold air is
hurting my lungs and chest, I feel like I am going to pass out”. After
getting him back to the van and warming him up I went to pack away his kit
and bring it back, he had perked up by then. “Thanks son, I did feel ill”
“Yes I could see” “You so and so I was winning that match today” I said “You
want to bring more food and a hot flask of drink with you and when its cold
put a pair of ladies tights on” I said. This huge grin appeared across his
face and he said “You bloody fool, you’ve waited 30 years to get your own
back on me, from when you passed out as a young lad down the Cam and it
seemed like yesterday” he said. “Yes I remember it well”, after getting
Percy home I phoned Mick Dant as he was still in contact with Tracey,
Percy’s daughter to let her know Percy had been poorly. Percy missed the
next match due to the cold, but from that day on he called me ‘Doctor
Darler’.
Ian, thank you
for these stories, I was beginning to think I was the only victim of the
legend!!!!
Percy, you are
not forgotten.
Graham
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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.
Back to Top
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.
Back to Top
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.
Back to Top
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.
Back to Top
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!
When I first set
out match fishing many years ago, in and around Cambridgeshire we had a
thriving match scene including a popular a Summer League Series being held
on our rivers. The matches
were two-hour matches and I think I am right in saying there were six
events. Anyhow as usual Percy
and the Pimpernels had several teams entered in the series and us lads had
to help out the oldies by preparing bait and carting their tackle to their
pegs. For this we got to
watch the maestro’s in action. Several
of the matches were held on the Cam at Waterbeach below the Lock.
This
venue has quite steep banks and so anglers would have to climb down and
wade at the water’s edge. Sometimes
the banks were that steep that you could look down on the angler from 7 or
8 feet. We used to lay on the
bank as we didn’t want to scare the fish or was it because we were
scared of the grumpiness of ‘Codshead’
“stop fxxk arsing around” this was due to fights breaking out as it
was usual for lads from rival schools to punch each other – nice.
Percy
had recently won the ‘All England’ and was at the height of his
angling career. He drove a
brand new yellow Volvo Estate, which after 2 weeks was completely trashed
inside, just like his old Bedford van. He would smoke huge cigars in competition with his brother George
who always seemed to have one bigger. One evening we were over at Waterbeach and Percy had drawn the high
bank. It was one of those
July evenings, which started out warm but soon became windy and overcast. Percy had got loads of new tackle and had for the only time I can
even remember the neatest tackle box. Usually it is just a load of tubs
and bits and pieces, but no this time it had all been sorted out nice and
neat.
Because
it was windy Percy had set up an 18” waggler and barked at me to get him
an “AAA shot” from his new shot box. I got hold of the box but could not open it. Anyone that knows me will tell you I am not the best at practical
things. Could I open it –
no, Percy grew ever impatient. Barking
orders at me. This made
things worse as I was a nervous type and shy disposition, my hands started
to shake. Then just as I
thought I was going to get banished from any trips, the lid flew open and
all his shots fell in to the long grass. I picked up a few and put them back and handed Percy the AAA shot. He muttered something but I did not get a whack or anything and we
are still friends. Anyhow
after about ½ hour Percy sent me and this other urchin down the river to
see how his brother George was getting on. It was getting cooler and as this lad and me dodged the cowpats a
few spots of rain fell. Nothing
really was happening and some of the adults were walking the bank. George was also walking along the bank; he had already given up and
was coming to see how his brother was doing. So we turned back with George helping him with his tackle, as he
puffed on his cigar. (I once tried smoking a cigar bit I could only get
hold of ones called Tom Thumb, I nicked it from my Granddad's stash.
We
arrived back at Percy’s peg and lay along the bank. Percy was doing quite well catching skimmers and Roach and so
we had to be quiet. The
trouble was there was this horrible smell. We kept checking ourselves to see if we had trod in the cowpats and
true enough I had some on my wellies, so I tried scraping it off with a
stick. Job done, I settled
back with the others to watch Percy but still there was this smell. There was about ½ hour to go before the end of the match and as
the light faded it also started to rain harder. As Percy had won the ‘All England’ he had not only got loads of
tackle but was sporting a brand new all-in-one Waterproof suit. Now very few people had these although of course they are now
commonplace. As it had been
fairly warm earlier on Percy had taken down the top part of the suit, hood
and all and tied the arm bits around his waist. These quilted suits are quite bulky. So Percy looked as though he had got this great green nappy
around him. Unbeknown to us
when we had gone off Percy had been called short. Not unusual for our Percy. Anyway
he suddenly stopped fishing placing his rod on the rest and started to
undo his all-in-one suit to put it back on. This is when it happened. As
he manoeuvred the suit across his shoulders the hood bit sort of flew up
and over his head ……along with all that which he had done earlier! One missile flew past his ear just clipping it and fell in to the
water with a plop. It hit the
water and momentarily floated downstream and then just like a submarine
slowly sank as it gathered pace with the river flow. Us kinds went berserk, as kids do. Urrrrr Percy urrrrr and at the same time rolled around on the grass
like demented animals. George
was being sick in to the grass cigar flung away, and all Percy could do
was shout at us. “Shut the fxxk up” “Shut up”. Urrrrh Percy as we saw another object perched on the edge of his
keep net.
This
lad and me didn’t get taken out to the following match, which I thought
was bang out of order. Apparently,
after many years of telling this true story, I was told that it was not
the first time Percy had done this and there are a number of other
colleagues that have suffered through such an unfortunate event. Some even received counselling such was the horrific experience.
Back to Top
I was reminded recently of the time when we used to fish
knockout contests against other teams the finals were held abroad, the
sponsors were I believe DFDS they were very popular throughout the
country. CFPAS LTD had quite
a record in the series and made it to the Southern Area Semi-Final. We had to fish a very swollen River Thames at Oxford and if my
memory is correct we missed the boat by about 6 oz. Whilst disappointed at the time, looking back it was a magnificent
feat particularly as we were fishing against Trev’s Browning and
Starlets. Anyhow a few years prior to our big run we were drawn against a
team from at Tydcote. The
venue was I believe the North Level. The section chosen was across two
fields, which meant a long walk. In
bright sunshine we began our trek and I can honestly say that the walk
with all our tackle and baits was made lighter by what we thought was a
vision of loveliness waving to us in the distance. There in the distance was a farmhouse with a local lass hanging out
her washing. We had to cut
across the sugar beet field in the direction of the lady. At first it was
a curious attraction in that however those with good eyesight were soon
seeing that the said lady was very scantily clad indeed! Bearing in mind that when we first set out she was just a small
blot, you can imagine that as we got nearer we got keener.
We drew closer and I have to say I did mutter to myself
that se was without any clothes at all!
The thing about it was that this was
a vision of loveliness – an hourglass figure. Strangely though her movements were somewhat momentous and she did
seem to taking an age in the garden still we naively thought it was
perhaps because she had seen many men lately being stuck in the middle of
nowhere, you know sheep for company etc.
All though was revealed as we finally
got to the fence of the garden. Their
flapping in the cabbage patch was our vision. Yes a life-sized blow up lady ‘Ann Summers style’ being used as
a bird scarer presumably having no other use!
Oh and yes we did win the Knock-Out
Contest against the Fen Boys!
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Dawn
Raiding:
The Lode Experience
I
spoke with my old friend Percy at our match on the Cam. He is definitely mellowing with age. He suggested that we might go dawn raiding once more. What after all these years, come on Percy I have gone
all-respectable.
I
must admit I use to enjoy our raids in to the Fens, always up at around
5am and back by 12pm so Percy could have his lunchtime pint and I could
enjoy the Sunday Roast! Ahh
Bisto, Roast Lamb was my favourite, mint sauce, new potatoes, peas and
carrots! Anyway this reminded
me of one such raid we made on the Burwell Lode at the Cock-Up Bridge. For those of you that don’t know the Lode too well, it is
in the middle of the Fen next to Wicken Nature Reserve, literally miles
from anywhere. You have to go
to it and then get from it on the same road there is no other way unless
you walk!
In
those days we travelled either in Percy’s little blue Nissan van or my
escort, usually my transport as Percy’s driving is a nightmare. Percy
would telephone on the Thursday to make arrangements, we did always seem
to do what he wanted but there again, as he constantly reminds us he is an
elder statesman “Yes Percy”.
The
phone went “Its Percy Pickles here”. Said in a Sergeant Major accent.
“where do you fancy fishing son?” He said. “Well Percy I heard Roach
are being caught on the seed at Baits bite Lock” Percy not one to hold
back replied “No good son, I’ve got our bait we are going to fish the
Lode”/ “Wheat, that’s the game”. “Umm o.k. Percy, lets do that
then”. So it was to be,
fishing the Lode on wheat for Roach. I don’t know about you but I have favourite venues and
those, which I never seem to do any good on and quite frankly the Lode is
one such venue for me. Talk
to somebody like Paul Sutton or Ian Darler and they will tell you
different but me I’ve always thought it would make a bloody good road to
Burwell. So, my enthusiasm was already dampened.
Percy,
Gary and myself assembled on the bridge and looked down in to the
gin-clear water. Not good. Percy undeterred pointed out the numerous Roach that were swimming
under the bridge. It was
quite bizarre really as they all seemed to be going towards Burwell and
not one fish going the other way.
Anyway,
Percy insisted we fished and fair enough after about an hour he lamps in
to a decent fish, Gary was next and then me catching Roach around the 10
oz mark. The Lode is quite
shallow and with it being clear bites were few and far between but when
you had one there was no mistake and we were all making up decent catches
– well for us anyway.
Then
all of a sudden Percy got up and walked down the flood bank, hopped over a
little dyke(ditch) and in to a field of potatoes.
He
crouched down, so I thought I had better not look as I thought he was
going to the toilet. This was
however not the case. Percy
yelled out “Look, Looook” “what the hell are you doing,” I yelled. There was our Greengrass(as he was sometimes known), kneeling
holding a big bunch of carrots and scrambling around in the potato field
putting new spuds in his jacket pocket. “Percy put them back,” I yelled. He just replied “They go lovely with Roast |Lamb, son” which I
had to admit is true.
As
usual not content with just the odd root Percy was going for it, just like one of those old Looney tune cartoons with Bugs Bunny in
it. You know, things flying
everywhere in the field. Then
out of nowhere came this terrific noise, we all ducked, Percy fell to the
ground. The noise was
absolutely deafening, it was the Red Arrows and we were on their flight
path. I could see the pilots,
the planes were so low. “Percy,
come out of the field quick” I yelled. “Don’t worry son” he replied, look the farmer will never
know. There he was taking the
potatoes off the roots, lovely little white things and putting them in to
his pocket. He was then
placing the plant back where it came form. He genuinely believed they would continue to grow, what a
nightmare. We did not hang
about and were back home by 12pm. The
fresh veg were lovely, I did wonder though whether after a few days the
farmer thought his crop had got blight when the odd one turned yellow
because our Percy had been at them. Oh
well, I have confessed now. I
don’t think I’ll be dawn raiding somehow as I say I have gone
all-respectable.
Back to Top
Is
This You?...
This
picture appeared in the Cambridge Evening News last week. Obviously
one of Percys many trips with young Cambridge Anglers. Do you know
the Year this photo was taken? Do you recognise anyone in the photo,
indeed is one of these lads you? Let us know. Its a great
picture and we would appreciate some information on it.
Back to Top
The Dawn Raiders
Those
of you that have followed the stories of the ‘Dawn Raiders’ will know
that the core group evolved around Percy. However quite some years ago there was if you like the ‘Junior
Dawn Raiders’ Rob, John, Mick, Sluggy and myself (the infamous
"Happy Hookers". I
was the oldest of the group and also the poorest. Martin aka cloth-head sort of came along later as our boy, fetch
this, fetch that and strangely even though he is in his 40’s is still
treated the same. Anyway we
were all keen match anglers and enjoyed raiding matches on the Cam, and
Middle Ouse. If we were not
in the pub we were fishing. Such
was our keenness that the closed season was torture until we started raids
to Lincolnshire, Denmark and Holland.
One
year we decided to end the season on the Broads. This was always a favourite with anglers as the fish shoaled
up in the boatyards. Anyway
someone booked a campsite chalet for a week and we were off. I think there were 6 of us, we had two cars and as we set off the
gallons of maggots we had took priority, we carefully made sure they did
not overheat. Never mind that
we were frozen in the back, so long as the maggots were o.k. then
everything was fine.
The
maggots were kept in two great big plastic trays. Now the Broads in March are quite deserted apart from the
anglers and so when we arrived at the site we were the only ones resident
for the week. The thing was
we were staying in what was sort of like a summerhouse and was asbestos
sheet clad without any insulation. Even
though Mick and John were younger it has to be said that they were a lot
more sharper than myself. I’m sort of a Rodney/Trigger. Anyhow when they said that I could sleep in the second bunk bed in
the bedroom with Sluggy because I was the oldest, I thought they were
being kind. After all the
other four would sleep on the floor in the kitchen sitting area. They did snigger but I thought nothing of it.
I
had my nice sleeping bag, so everything was lumdy dumdy. The first night we turned in at about 1pm after consuming a huge
pile of fish and chips and beers. We
all just collapsed where we were to sleep, but Sluggy no – he washed,
shaved and cleaned his teeth and kept us awake for another half-hour. He came in to the room
and as I was half asleep I did not notice that he fully opened the window
– “Do you mind” he said. “I
have to sleep with the window open, I like the fresh air”. This was the beginning of March and you know we were getting those
sharp frosts. I did not
take it in as I had consumed far too much beer. Now this shack thing got really cold and damp. To keep the maggots lively the lads had put the trays in front of
the only electric fire - that might give you an idea of how cold it was. At 3pm I awoke
with a raging headache but not only that I was frozen. I was shivering. No
way was Sluggy going to shut the window, so I had to drag the bed into the
sitting room and kip down with the others, realising I had been set-up. Dawn was upon us and
we all surfaced. Sluggy was
the cook and I tell you what with all huge breakfasts tomatoes, bacon,
eggs, beans, sausages, fried bread, the lot. This was to be the same all week, along with beer and fish and
chips. I honestly could not
face fish and chips for at least 6 months after that and a bowl of
shreddies was something to die for but the first few days, it was heaven.
We
all set up around this marina and started to catch the odd Roach. I
was told I had to cast in to the middle and so I followed the
instructions. It was not long
in to the session when it happened. I
cast and as I did there was this huge crack. My glass fibre rod broke in to two, but sort of splintered and so
after the initial cracking sound there was a sound like smashing glass. The rod sort of broke and then in slow motion fell to the ground.
Everybody
except me laughed and you
know when one starts the others get worse. Well, Mick’s laugh has always been one of those sort of
infectious dirty ones and so after about 5 minutes he was actually in
tears. As I mentioned before I was poor – some say tight, but
anyway I had only the one float rod so that was it for me until John came
to my rescuer with one of his. I
have not been let off this story and ever so often it gets told again to
my embarrassment. But worse
still I have never been forgiven for what I did a couple of days later. You see I could not take anymore, the cold, the food, the beer and
no change of clothes for 4 days. I
negotiated an escape route at the Stalham Boatyard. We met up with Lacy, purely by chance. Could I get a lift back with him? Yes. Now it was
nothing personal, it’s just that I could not take anymore but as I say I
have never been forgiven for my disappearance halfway through the trip and
so ever since I have sort of been excluded from little events like going
to Dublin this New Year aaaah bless.
Back to Top
The
Return Of The Dawn Raiders
Much
has been said about the infamous Dawn Raiders - most of it exaggerated
slightly. The main participants were Percy, Gary, Mick, Tweedie and
Jimmy Dog.
The
raids on waters were always early morning affairs as the lads liked to be
back for their Sunday Roast and pint of beer! And Jimmy Dog could only
take so much barking at the Swans and ducks before his little voice would
go hoarse. (Dog? Horse? Oh well!)
It is
funny really but the raids took place every Sunday summer or winter over 4
or 5 years and it can be truly said that not once did any of the raiders
really bag up.
O.k. so
every now and then one of them would get a few fish but not big catches. This makes it all a little strange, as today if you speak with one
of the elder raiders – Percy, he nearly always seems to bag up, yes
always. I was reminded of the
pleasures of the company of the Dawn Raiders the other day when I attended
the C.U.F.C. Match on the Cam. There
was Percy commanding respect from anglers he had taught such as Rob,
Martin and Ian. Although the
years have aged Percy, everything still seemed the same. Just look at the picture of him and see if you agree.
I’d
like to hear form those anglers that have gone off to America and
Australia and see if they remember Percy? Look at those flairs and the Hush Puppy Jesus Boots. Did the trousers fit when they were purchased new? Has that cigarette always hung off this lip? Hmmmmm. Just a few days later Percy was persuaded to fish the match on the
Cam at Clayhithe. Again I was
reminded of the Raiders as after a couple of hours Percy and his dog were
wandering up and down the bank. “You’re fishing it all wrong son,”
he said. He always says this,
strange really as usually it is when you are catching and he is not. Of course this type of comment would cast doubt in your mind and
then you would stop catching. So that’s why we never caught much, aha at last I’ve
unlocked the mystery. Its
sort of mind games, you see basically if Percy is not catching then you
bloody well won’t either! I’ve
tried all sorts over the years to make him go away but without success.
A
colleague had this recent conversation with our old friend.
“Percy
I understand you and Tweedie came out of retirement and fished the match
on the Cam?” “Yes”
“He replied, “How did Tweedie do?” Percy paused for a moment then replied “He fished like pigshit,
using floats out of his box 20 years old!” Oh, Percy, then he did not do very well then? How did you do??? “Well umm I fished pigshit too” So you came nowhere then? “Well I would have done if I had bothered to weigh in like
Tweedie!” Oh so he did o.k.
then “4th –
not much good really” Percy growled. Things don’t change.
Back to Top
Thanks
to member G. Woolley for sending me this Angling Joke
One
day God calls down to Noah and says, "Noah me old china, I want you
to make me a new Ark".
Noah
replies, "No probs God, me old Supreme Being anything you want
after all you're the guv'
But
God interrupts, "Ah, but there's a catch. This time Noah, I >want
not just a couple of decks, I want 20 decks one on top of the other".
20
DECKS!", screams Noah. "Well, OK Big Man, whatever you say.
Should I fill it up with all the animals just like last time?"
Yep,
that's right, well . .. sort of right . .. this time I want you to
fill it up with fish", God answers.
Fish?", queries Noah
"Yep, fish. . .well, to make it more specific
Noah, I want carp - wall to wall,
floor to ceiling -Carp!"
Noah looks to the skies. "OK God my old
mucker,
let me get this right, you want a New Ark?"
Check".
With 20 decks, one on top of the other?"
Check".
And you want it full of Carp?".
Check".
Why?" asks the perplexed Noah, who was slowly
but surely getting to the end of his tether.
Dunno", says God, "I just fancied a
Multi-Storey Carp Ark".
Back to Top
Our
Younger Days
Percy
- this ones for you to make up for all the stories that Graham keeps
passing on. For those of you who don't know, please can I introduce
a very odd looking.... Hip and trendy for his time (or so I'm told - but
as I was only 3 at the time this picture was taken) 17 year old....Future
CFPAS Ltd. President and Director.... Mr Graham Tweed.
He
looks as though a good burst of wind would knock him over... and as
for the nose - great picture Gray!!! Many thanks to Lacy for
providing me with this great source of amusement - it has been passed
round at several parties.
Oh,
and before Graham try's to get his own back - here is a picture of me,
taken in the same year as the one above of Graham, just after the birth of my baby brother
Stephen, financial advisor and Partner
in financial company Revell, Turner &
Wass (nice plug) now the 31
year old father of 3 children. Am I not just a gorgeous
little doll? - wish mum had pulled my dress down though....
I
think its hilarious....seventies "fashions" I'm so glad I
was so young and that I have my parents to blame for what they made me
wear...
If
any of you out there have any other pictures of great CFPAS importance,
please send me a copy. All photos will be returned to sender - once
scanned.
Back to Top
Percy
- The Younger Years
In
the 1930’s when Percy was just a little urchin living in Chesterton,
things were really quite hard, especially as there were 5 children in the
family. Days would go by
without food, there were no coco-pops in those days or pop-tarts and a
luxury meal was lard dripping on a bit of stale bread. Percy lived by his wits and soon developed a talent for working a
deal. They were though happy times and in the summer months Percy
and his brothers spent many hours fishing the River Cam. George, Lacy and Percy would often go off and fish at
Waterbeach, strapping their fishing tackle to their rickety old cycles. The 4-mile trip seemed quite easy going along the river towpath, as
it was back wind all the way.
It
is strange but many years later I too would make the trip to Waterbeach to
fish from my home near Cherry Hinton.
Anyway,
the journey along the riverbank is very special with many features along
the way. Fen Ditton Church,
the Plough Pub (there was in those days a hand operated ferry to the Pub)
the Lock at Baits bite with the friendly Lockkeeper. The trouble was that the journey was made harder coming home, as it
was always face wind.
The
journeys to Waterbeach were generally made in the summer months, as the
track would become very muddy in the winter. Bunking off school was also a regular occurrence with the brothers
as they travelled the countryside looking for freebies not caring about
learning to read and write.
One
summer, Percy, never one to miss a trick worked out a cunning plan. He
noticed on Tuesdays and Thursdays that a Mr. Blinkey would make the trip
to his pig farm in Waterbeach with his horse and cart. He would not leave the farm until 4pm to go back to Chesterton and
so this gave the young lads the opportunity to hitch a ride. They did not mind the smell from the cart, they were just glad to
hang on to the back freewheeling. Lacy
would hang on to the left hand side of the cart, George on the right and
Percy because he thought of the idea would get to put his cycle on the
cart and he would sit in the back! Most
journeys were uneventful if not a little bumpy; the lads would mess around
a bit and do that freewheeling with their legs in the air stuff. However one-day things did go a little wrong. The youngsters were messing around again ringing on their bicycle
bells and larking around. The
old black carthorse seemingly oblivious to the rumpus from the back. The cart did though hit an unusually large bump in the track
and sort of lurched momentously to one side, Lacy lost his hold on the
back and then hit the rut in the track and fell off in to the bushes to
the side of the river. The
other two lads were highly amused as their little brother got up and
brushed himself down. The trouble was that the horse and cart kept going
and try as they may their shouts were in vain and Lacy became just a
little dot as he tried to catch up. Of course Percy and George secure in
their lift were not going to stop and wait for their brother and just
continued on to their home.
The
two youngsters stumbled in to the back yard and put their fishing tackle
away in the outbuildings. In
to the kitchen they went looking out for anything to eat. Their mother stood in the hall doorway resplendent in the white
full-length apron. Where’s
Lacy she cried, George shot off upstairs, leaving Percy to try and explain
why they had left their brother?
About
half an hour later Lacy eventually staggered in to the kitchen. Grass stains on his bruised and cut knees. His shirt torn and his hair with all bits of twigs in it. “They left me mother” he cried. “Percy, Perrrrcy”. The
little urchin appeared from the hallway “Yes mother”? He said in his little boy lost voice. “Why did you leave our lacy by the side of the track”? Quick as a flash Percy replied, “Well mother, you see we saw our
brother get up and we thought as he waved that he was saying to us carry
on, he would catch up”! Percy
winked at Lacy without his mother seeing “That’s right isn’t it
brother” he said to Lacy. “ummmm,
well yes mother that’s what happened” Lacy replied. Throughout their lives it would appear that Percy would get into
some little scrapes and yes you have guessed it, brother Lacy would always
be there to get him out of the mess.
Back to Top
Percy's
Curry Nights
They
were legendary. Yes I have to
say that Percy on occasions could rustle up a half-decent meal. He would spend hours and hours preparing.
This was not entirely necessary, it was just that he would get
muddled and forget things or get distracted and he would literally have to
trace back to the beginning to figure out his next step. Time after time he would put down the pinchers which he used to
turn the knob on and off on his cooker and spend 15 minutes looking for
them. To be fair though he
would always get the best and freshest of produce (usually free), it’s
just that with his curries he
never did cook one the same because he could not remember the recipe. So sometimes they would be herby and bland and others would be very
hot.
His
daughter Tracy was single at the time and so as well as Percy’s friends,
there would be 6 or 7 of Tracy’s friends stoking up on a curry before
going out clubbing, they would come across from the Five Bells already
pissed, get changed with much giggling and swearing, then chomp on the
curry. The pot was huge. Bombay potatoes, rice, popadoms and Nan-Bread – all
homemade. The prawns in the
curry were also huge and the chicken curry would have quarter breasts in
it and sometimes feathers!
There
would be loads and loads of bread, beer, pickles – the lot. On one occasion there must have been 20 of us including my chum mad
Mickey and still there was plenty of food. We all brought drink but there was always loads, especially near
Christmas time when Tracy had been given some by the reps as she was a
Floor Manager at Debenhams. Champagne
I remember was also regularly opened as Tracy and her chums were intent on
a good time. I remember once having consumed his curry and a whole bottle
of Moet falling asleep sprawled out on his sofa in the side room. This caused much amusement as Tracy disappeared into the cold night
air for the taxi.
I
actually came too when they all arrived back form the club around
2-2.30am. Ahhr well, this was
some time ago and the curry nights are no more. I did however sample some of Percy’s Bombay potatoes at a
Committee Match at Heritage Lake about 2 years ago. Percy had his little portable wok, stove and his big pot. Ok so he set fire to the dry grass, ok he spilled the
potatoes on the ground and spent 10 minutes picking the grass off but our
bailiff from Mepal Peter 5 bellies never knew!! and said they were lovely.
Back to Top
Percy’s
New Potatoes
Those
of you that have been following my exploits will know that Percy has got
somewhat tetchy lately because I have been telling everyone about the
things he got up to. In fact
I did get an email from his son-in-law where Percy was threatening me with
his Barrister so I know I have got him rattled. But I feel it my duty to tell these stories because lets face it,
you just don’t come across characters like Percy anymore – well not on
the outside of institutions anyway.
You
will appreciate I have gone quite respectable these days but when I was a
teenager I was one of Percy’s lads and if Fagin said we were going out
in to the Fen I would not argue. Many
occasions I would drive to some obscure place and say to Percy where are
we going and all I would get back is “keep going son”. Then out of the blue he would shout ”Stop!” out he would
hop, pick up all sorts of produce and say something like “these will go
very nicely with some butter and garlic “Hmmmmmmmm” and puff on his
roll-up.
There
was, however, a very rare occasion when Percy actually paid for something. Yes, it’s true! well almost. Anyhow we had been fishing on the Lode at Upware and hadn’t done
very well which was not a surprise and so we packed up and headed for
home. Just as you come in to
a little village called Stretham on the left of the road are some
allotments and Percy never one to miss a trick saw this little old man
tending to his veg. We pulled
over, Percy, Gary and I and went over to chat to the bloke. It sort of went like this “Hello, Hello” in a booming voice
“your patch looks a treat”. The
old guy was somewhat startled, I mean lets face it all he was doing was gathering some new potatoes and carrots for Sunday
lunch and out of the blue three shifty characters appear.
“They
look lovely” drooled Percy. “Yes
my first dig of the year” replied the old guy”. Well all this stuff went on for some time. The prey being drawn in to a spider’s web. Not only did Percy persuade the chap to part with a bag of
potatoes, carrots and spring onions but also the guy actually went over to
his house to get a plastic bag for the produce. Not satisfied, Percy went for the kill. “These are my sons,” he said and they have young children who I
am sure would appreciate some of your produce”. The old guy was spellbound, or was he just trying to get rid of us. He filled two more Tesco’s bags full of produce and quite frankly
there was not much left of his rows of spuds. He turned and looked at the devastation but Percy was on a roll.
Percy
then turned to the guy and said “I’d like to give you something for
all this – what? I looked at Gary; he looked at me, and shook his head
in disbelief as to what he had just heard. “Yes please, take something”. “Graham give the man a fiver”, do you know I actually did as I
was told! I mean it was a bargain wasn’t it. All we got on the drive home was “Hmmmmmmmmmm” Hmmmmmmmmmmm”, very nice with a little bit of butter and mint
Hmmmmmmmmm Hmmmmmmm.
Percy’s
top tip for fishing the Lode, fish wheat in August for bags of Roach and
occasional skimmers. If you
see a little old man tending to his little plot spare a thought.
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Percy's
Paint Pots Part Two...
Percy
and his brother George once secured a very lucrative job in one of
Cambridgeshire’s premier department stores, decorating the groundfloor.
The work had to be done in the evenings and on Sundays. Working these odd hours seemed to effect our Percy in quite a
strange way which would cause his brother George much consternation and
frequently say to his brother “Pack it in or we will get fired off the
job!”
You
see Percy loves an audience and here was his opportunity. The shop front went on to one of the busiest streets in Cambridge
and what's more the Regal Cinema was just next door which meant that
people would queue past the shop to get in to the cinema. Picture the scene. Manikins nicely placed in the shop display, Percy goes on to
the platform and sits in one of the display chairs near a coffee table
with a bowl of artificial fruit. Yes
you have guessed it! Percy
goes into the shop window. Percy would pretend not to move. People would queue and stare. It would be kind of double take. They would look away and just stare back. Was this for real? Why
was a manikin dressed in white overalls sitting on the chair?
Of
course Percy would play up to this audience. He would occasionally change positions, which would completely fool
the gathering crowd. One such
evening it was particularly busy. Percy
reckoned there must have been at least 100 people queuing. There he was motionless. Then all of a sudden he lent across to the coffee table and picked
up an apple and pretended to eat it.
The
crowd were riveted to the window and roared with laughter. I think one old lady even fainted. Percy loved all of this.
He
played his other trick. He
had a pair of glasses on, one side did not have any glass and so at one
point he slowly but deliberately put his finger through the frame and
scratched his eye. This
brought great amusement to the gathering crowd. Percy was on a roll. Up
he got and proceeded to dance with one of the manikins. He even did a sort of individual funny dance a bit like moonwalking. The crowd loved it but all of a sudden it went quiet and parted.
Percy stopped, took a bow with his dummy and as he looked up a policeman
stood watching him. The
policeman was not amused.
Percy
gingerly put the manikin back in to its position and disappeared behind
the back drop curtains. His
last appearance in the shop window.
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Percy’s
Paint Pot
Percy
has done many jobs in his lifetime and prefers for me not to tell everyone
everything but we know him best for being a painter and decorator. Yes he
was also a professional footballer and yes he was in the Kings Troupe and
a top horseman but painting and decorating is his true trade now.
According
to his brother, Lacy, he had a certain way in securing jobs, “no not
best estimating more a way of using his cheek”.
One
day Percy was asked to visit a lady whom was quite well off to make a
quotation for a job. He arrived with a huge cigar puffing away and the
lady was quite intoxicated by the smoke or was it Percy’s very unique
aftershave. Percy walked into the hall and boldly said, “I’ve brought
my colour cards” and pointed to his slippers. The lady, a little
confused, looked at them. She looked at Percy and he said, “I’ve got
every colour you can think of” and with that he plonked himself down on
an expensive chair with his old tatty radio.
“Yes
any colour you like” he said again. Pointing to his multi coloured
slippers and the spotty splashed radio, “oh I see Mr. Anderson you are
such a joker,” said the lady.
“No
no no” cried Percy, “you see any colour you like”.
“You
know me Mr. Anderson,” said the lady.
“Call
me Percy,” said Percy.
“Umm
Percy I fancy Lavender” replied the lady.
“No
no no what you want is green, no Lavender, green is much better see I’ve
got some here” said Percy pointing to a half opened tin of paint.
“I
can do it cheap” said Percy.
“Err
well Mr. Anderson, Percy, yes I suppose you are right! Cheek!
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The
Dawn Raiders - The Revolt
Now
look the Dawn Raiders tales are only allegedly and I confess that with the
passage of time they may have become a little more colourful but
basically, honest guv they are pretty true to form. You may have seen that one of the Dawn Raiders has been threatening
me with his banister – yes that wooden thing on the stairs, not his
legal brief but hey these stories must be told, after all we have even
received some from America and Australia.
So
you see I consider it my duty to tell these tales all of course allegedly
you understand.
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The
Old Bedford Van
Anyone
remember these. You can get to see them on Heartbeat on ITV, for our
international friends these vans were in those old dodgy English B movies
usually as the police vans. They
were around in the 1960’s. Percy
had one.
It
was knackered. It had its engine sort of between and under the two front
seats so it was mighty noisy, hot and smelly. The van was clapped out before Percy got it so you can imagine what
it was like after a couple of years with the master. But it did take us around, well sometimes.
In
those days we all had wicker fishing baskets. They were huge; in fact the bigger you had one the more famous you
thought you were. Also if you
had one with fancy different woven wicker then you really had arrived. Our Percy had one but within a few months it was so messed up you
would have never known of its pedigree.
Anyhow
us kids were sort of Percy’s boys and he was Fagin. We were apprentices in the match fish trade and so we had to
do all the crappy work. We
had to be around Percy’s by 6.am. All
the bait had to be then leaned off and the casters prepared. The van
loaded and cups of coffee made for all the old guys in Percy’s kitchen.
The
place would be filled with cigar smoke because at that time Percy and his
brother George smoked the biggest cigars you had ever seen.
Having
done all the work us lads you might just get the chance of a lift to a
match but often there would not be room in the van and you ended up down
by the Gasworks with a free pint of maggots.
Even
if you did manage to get a lift you kind of had to lay on top of the
baskets or squeeze in-between the bait, tackle and paint pots. In the front would be Percy, George and Lacy. Tony Offley
would sit behind on one of the baskets and occasionally Tony Phillips,
Brzosko, Pettit and I would be further back and would only be let out at
the elder’s whim.
The
fashion of the day was quite interesting. You had to have carpet slippers (more later), white socks, wellies,
a boiler suit and an Army issue parka with rabbit fur around the hood.
The
carpet slippers were a must. They
had to be old purple or red and of candlewick-type material. They would be worn at the HQ for the match come winter or summer,
rain or shine. The white
socks were huge and your trousers had to be tucked in to them. Your trousers had to have paint on them, Percy and George were
decorators but we ended up just like them because of the paint that would
fly about in the pots in the van.
I
had not got any candlewick slippers so I once turned up in a pair of sky
blue ones which had a protruding rubber effigy of Donald Duck on the toe
tips. I thought I was dead trendy, I must add they were old ones because
my Mum would never let me out with my latest Christmas present.
The
other thing was that I had on the inside of my wellies written a ‘L’
and an ‘R’. This was long
before that comedian Jimmy Cricket did it so I can claim some fame. As a kid it took me ages to figure out why my dad did this and I
would often go around with them on the wrong feet – bless. Just look at me now!! Still
don’t know left or right!!
Travelling
in that old van was mighty dangerous, but we were young, you see we had no
fear and so off we would go all cramped up in a vehicle, which should have
been at a breakers yard.
The
thing would roar away as we trundled down Fenland Droves, the oily fumes
filling the back of the van together with exhaust from the broken pipe
coming up through the floorboards. I
have often thought this was the reason for Pettit’s affliction but he
claims it was the road accident he was in and the metal plate in his
head!!
Percy
would hurl us around in the van. He would corner like a madman. The van did have brakes but no brakes shoes so we kind of either
braked and shot forward or nothing at all. I’m sure my back problems are a result of those perilous
journeys.
The
Anderson brothers had a saying every time the van braked. It went “wow hold it” or “wowohohold it”. Us kids were impressionable and so “wow hold it” became a
catchphrase and the whole van would chant it as we arrived at the match
HQ. We kind of imagined we
were settlers on the prairie, holding up our trusty carthorses. I’ve always wanted to ask about the true origin of the
catchphrase but dare not ask Percy in case I can’t understand him. So “Wow hold it” is kind of used but no-one knows why. I can hear our man now “You don’t know the half of it sonny”
“o.k. Percy” I’ll just tell the story.
So
one day I did manage to get a lift in the van to a match at Tempsford in
Bedfordshire.
This
was to be the first time I would meet Ivan Marks and his likely lads at a
greasy spoon café in St. Neots. I
had to sit and watch all these guys scoff huge greasy breakfasts washed
down with gigantic mugs of sweet tea.
The
reason I got to go to the match was because Lacy had driven with one of
his mates. I had never been
to such a large match 300 or so.
I
also had never before come across different accents except watching
Coronation Street. Things
like “Ow do me dook” and “owt doing Perrrcy”, I stood totally in
bewilderment at the draw.
Apparently
there was a Junior Section in the match and I was representing Cambridge
Pimpernels.
We
had two vehicles and we were all drawn miles apart. I was left by the side of the road as Percy and Lacy shot off
in different directions. Time
passed as I watched the match organiser pack up and the last car drew out
of the lay-by. Was I ever
going to get fishing then round the corner I heard that roaring sound and
Percy drew up “whow hold it” “get in” and we were off. “Its just over there your peg”. Percy was very generous; he gave me all the unwanted bait – 8
gallons of maggots in two biscuit tins. You need casters but the oldies had all of them. Just over there meant across two ploughed fields. But hey what’s that for a 12 year old. I got to my peg with 10 minutes to go. This river was not what I was use to, it seemed huge. I was totally out of my depth.
It
was wide, deep and carrying extra water. My 9 ft rod was no match. I
plumbed up and never reached bottom. I had two bushes either side of my
peg in a little bay and so I just placed my rod near the bank with the
float close to the waters edge. I
did catch 6 little Chublets for 8 oz. The bloke next door said I had done
well.
I
trundled off back up the field and sat and waited and waited. It started to get dark and I just started to get worried when Lacy
drew up. I don’t remember getting presented with the prize but I did win
the Junior Section. The prize
and I still have a few, was a superb display of floats on a display board. I was absolutely chuffed and just kept staring at them on the way
home. We stopped off at the
café in St. Neots as we saw Percy’s van. I followed Lacy in to the café “Now look here brother” Lacy
said, this is a phase I was to get used to over the years “fancy leaving
the poor lad without collecting the prize”. Ah well I thought what a day Percy gave me all those maggots and
his brother took care of me. I was hooked (allegedly).
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