FROM *THE Dear Diary

RIVERBANK PART FIVE

"It is one of the beautiful
compensations of this life
that no-one can sincerely try
to help another without
helping himself."
CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER
The story goes on, and on, and on, and
especially at those prices.
For my sins I was rewarded with a
slight hangover but despite my
headache I quite fancied the peg.
Perched on top of a wall underneath a
willow tree my swim was about 10 feet
deep shallowing up to seven.
Unfortunately a Boss Box was pegged
immediately below me. He wasn't too
pleased either because apparently the
peg he drew is normally left out. Today
My foul hooked barbel

"If men do not keep on

speaking terms with
children, they cease to be
men and become merely
machines for eating and
earning money."
JOHN UPDYKE
Once again November found me a
long way from home on a fishing trip.
This time I was on the River Thames in
the heart of Boss Box country, pegged
just below the railway bridge at
Shiplake, an absolute flier so it seemed.
"You'll win it off that peg Bob, can't
fail." How many times have you heard
that one before? And why is it my head
is always throbbing and eyes
struggling to focus when I hear it?
The previous afternoon had been
spent fishing the waggler on Henley's
promenade along with Hag 'the bag'
Hargreaves, Kevin Guy and Steve
Grainger of Tek Neek Niddmen, who
had joined me to fish this annual
Remenham A.C. teams of four charity
match. The fishing had been excellent
by Northern standards and throughout
the afternoon various members of the
Remenham team dropped by to greet
us and make us feel more than
welcome. Several of these were to join
us later for a meal and a drink or three.
John Roberts describes his team as
'The Journeymen' and this is no idle
boast when you consider they jumped
at the chance to drive four hours and
fish a strange venue at short notice.
What he fails to mention however is
their staggering capacity to expertly
demolish helpings of the amber nectar.
The four of us were left singing on long
into the night after our hosts had
sensibly departed. This was in spite of
the dreadful excuse for beer served up
in these foreign parts. Come on lads,
how on earth do you put up with it?

1461
we both had our style cramped and he
was in no mood to give me a couple of
yards. To be fair he didn't complain
that many times during the match, it
just seemed like it! Kicking off on the
stick picking up bits steadily, I was
concerned my bait couldn't get down
in the length of swim available and on
advice given in good faith I had
brought no hemp down with me.
The word was six pounds would be a
good weight and low doubles would be
enough to win. After half an hour I had
a pound or so in the net and the peg
was building up nicely when the float
just stopped. Not sure if it was a fish, or
what, I lifted gently. All went solid.
Snagged I thought, but the snag
seemed to be coming towards me, how
odd. Indeed it was coming upstream,
then it jerked. It didn't jerk twice, it just
cruised out to the middle of the river! I
thought back to the River Severn trip
with Ron Lees and felt sick. Not again!
Once more I was stuck into a barbel,
don't you just hate 'em? This one was
foul hooked to boot, right in the
pectoral fin. I was joined long before
the fight was over by my old friend
Gordon who complimented me on my
patience.
My section steward told me I was
paralysing the section and I felt
reasonably confident of framing at that
Live radio — quite an experience
point. Unfortunately the river had
picked up a bit of pace and my bait was
going anywhere but where I wanted it.
Bites had virtually dried up. Out went
the feeder on the same line but so many
leaves were coming down it was
impossible. Long before I could get a
bite the tip was dragged round by
rubbish and the feeder was bouncing
about.
I dropped into a pattern of two
chucks with the feeder, five minutes on
the float. At least some bait was going
in and an odd small fish had a peck.
Two hours into the match and the float
did it again. This one felt right, not
foulhooked but definitely bigger. Out it
went and then upstream. If one thing
makes me feel confident it is a barbel
going upstream, be patient and they
usually come out. I say usually because
despite allowing it to run under
minimal pressure the line suddenly
went slack. On reeling in, what
remained of the hook length was
frayed over several inches. It must have
rubbed over a snag or something. That
fish would have doubled my weight in
one go and set me up for a great finish
but with it went my chances I'm afraid
to say.
From here things grew steadily
worse and bites dried up completely.
An extra five yards on the peg would
have made a world of difference or
perhaps a few less leaves. I couldn't
even hold back on the float without the
leaves dragging it under. From a
commanding position I gradually
slipped down the section to finish in
the bottom half with six pounds odd.
Euro Box 1, rest of section 39!!!
Elsewhere the river had fished its nuts
off and the original target of eleven
pounds didn't even win a section. I
could happily live down here.
The Remenham Charity Match began
in 1989 after a club member lost his son
in a cot death tragedy. In that first year
alone over six thousand pounds was
raised to purchase baby heart monitors
for local families, a splendid effort.
Inspired by this success, but mindful
that the first event might have been
carried along on a tidal wave of
sympathy, the deepening recession and
plain old charity fatigue, the committee
chose to run the event again the
following year, this time in aid of
Cerebral Palsy Children. Again it was a
success and the match is now an annual
event. This year the recipients were
Deaf Children. In just three years the
club have raised no less than £15,770 to
buy equipment for children's charities
and monies are still coming in.
Events like this give angling's image
a tremendous boost wherever and
whenever they are held. There can be
no doubt how such activities raise the
standing and respect for a club in its
local community, particularly when
our sport is under constant threat from
the antis.
1471
 Perhaps the NFA could give it's
multitude of clubs the option of
running a fund raising event instead of
attending regional meetings and
conferences, which we all know no one
wants to attend anyway. Lets face it if
delegates were so keen to attend why
does it have to be made compulsory
and why are so many teams relegated
as a result of non attendance?
Remenham AS. are not a big club.
They are typical of many clubs up and
down the country in that they have
small holdings on a fishery (the
Thames around Henley), have a
National Team in the Second Division,
fish the usual Winter Leagues, organise
club matches, run Junior and Ladies
teams etc. Your typical angling club in
fact.
Because their reaches of the Thames
below Reading have only short sections
of access, local clubs Marlow A.S. and
Shiplake A.S. were invited to join them
in their efforts and a committee was
formed with representatives from each
club. Bill Cooke opted to organise the
results and pools, whilst each club took
responsibility to organise peggers,
stewards, and scales men for their own
venue. The charity reps took it upon
themselves to organise raffle prizes.
It was decided to run the event as a
teams of four match and the limiations
of the venues meant this was restricted
to just forty teams paying £60 pools per
team. Because all waters were donated
free of charge and all stewards etc.
were giving their services freely this
provided an extremely attractive
payout totalling £2400. However, in
order to fish, each team of four had to
raise a MINIMUM of £60 sponsorship
for charity, payable in advance.
A shield, awarded to the team raising
the highest total before the match was
provided by a local landscaping firm.
Jack Purchase Holidays provided a
winning team trophy whilst the
Remenham club itself donated the
individual trophies.
The first match was an unqualified
success and demand for the event in
subsequent years has not diminished.
In many ways the club is now
identified with the event and not vice-
versa.
The first important lesson to be
drawn from this is to first choose a
local charity and ensure that they are
prepared to work with you. It is also
much easier to raise money if this is to
be spent entirely on equipment. Of the
many thousands of pounds raised so
far not one penny has gone on
overheads or expenses. On the match I
attended, the Deaf Childrens Society
displayed the very equipment the
money was being raised for, and how
much each item would cost, at the
match headquarters.
Banks do not charge 'charities' for
the services they provide. Despite all
pools monies being collected in
advance by cheque it is still common to
1481
find yourself holding £2000 or more on
the day of the event due to raffles and
late sponsorships arriving. Make sure
you establish night safe facilities with
the bank in advance. For security
reasons make the pools payouts by
cheque.
Probably the biggest problem when
running charity events is collecting in
the sponsorship monies and pledges by
the day of the event. Everyone wants to
hear how much has been raised when
the prizes are given out. Sadly much of
this is guess work and there are no easy
solutions.
Finally to work so hard helping the
less fortunate is rewarding in itself but
you should maximise the publicity
potential generated by such an event if
only to make it easier to raise money
next time. Nothing succeeds like
success. Make sure your trumpet is
Hally battering atDaventry
blown loudly enough.
What other delights did November
hold? I suppose the most important
offer career wise was a chance to write
a column for kids in the Angling Times.
Hopefully by the time you read this it
will be well established. It is a great
honour and big responsibility to write
for kids, not to mention a damn sight
more difficult than this. If I work hard
enough at it I get a chance to influence
a whole generation of young anglers.
How many people get an opportunity
like that? You can rest assured that I
will not be treating the matter lightly.
David (Hall) asked me how I would
reconcile the effing and blinding
occasionally found in this column
when writing for impressionable
juveniles. The answer is simple, the
swearing has to go. I have always felt
that a man who has to swear to express
his feelings has a poor command of his
native language anyway. Shakespeare
seemed to manage, and if I was really
clever I would throw in one of his
quotations to suit but I can't find one!
Instead I will quote Mark Twain, "Let
us swear while we may, for in heaven it
will not be allowed". However I don't
think for one minute that if I feel the
need to write one of my more
controversial pieces it will inhibit me in
the slightest. When things have to be
said, rest assured I will not waiver. I'll
just do it without resorting to
profanities.
Out of the blue came a chance to do a
radio show. My first reaction was to
run a mile but having given it careful
consideration for about two seconds I
thought why not? Indeed why not?
Beware all you budding radio stars out
there that should the chance arise and
you take it, you run a ninety per cent
risk of having to justify the cruelty
issues live on the air with a microphone
shoved up your nose. It might seem a
cheap shot but rest assured no
interviewer worth his salt will pass up
the opportunity. I presume I survived
the ordeal alright because I was invited
back twice more but no matter how
well you prepare yourself for the
inevitable questions there is no other
feeling of nakedness quite like it.
There was also an invitation from the
boss to visit his holy shrine in darkest
Rugby. A very pleasant weekend was
the result, but the promise of a two
pounds roach from Daventry Reservoir
proved to be a fantasy on his part.
Mind you he no doubt imagined I
could fish a bit which just goes to show
you can indeed fool some of the people
all of the time! Then again I always
imagined he could too, so it was a
pleasure to slaughter him with
something like five small roach to his
four. I think his eyes have gone!
To be fair the reservoir's pike did us
no favours because they were really
having a go. Big double figure fish
frequently rolled within five yards of
the bank, often right underneath our
rod ends. This wasn't just an individual
fish either, because there were huge
swirls erupting simultenously along
the bank we fished.
We had squeezed in on the end of a
row of pike anglers, virtually having to
share a swim, yet despite staring at the
obvious they all continued to blank as
they hurled their herrings towards the
horizon. It just goes to show that
despite all the thousands of words and
fancy diagrams published over the
years we writers still seem to miss the
mark with the average angler. I often
wonder whether he is happy blanking,
or whether it is the fault of writers like
myself who set out to both entertain
and educate but clearly fail to achieve
the latter rather more often than we
care to admit.
What do you mean I fail to entertain
as well? Who said that????