The Farmer & His Wife

John Taylor takes up fishing.

I STARTED fishing at the age of ten. There was a burn running through Dad’s farm. It had a good supply of trout, eels and bullheads. I became a dab hand at locating trout and tickling them.

Likewise, I would watch where an eel glided, put some sand on one hand, lift the stone and grab. A quick flick on to the bank and it was mine.

Great days.

I mentioned to the now late Mr Chalmers, headmaster of the Burgh School in St Andrews, that I had a desire to learn to fish.

“I fish the Cameron Reservoir every Wednesday night,” he told me. “Come along and I’ll teach you.”

I told Anne about this kind offer. She knew I had always wanted to learn to fish.

I went for about six Wednesdays in a row. Despite his best efforts to teach me, I caught only one trout.

He didn’t have any trouble in attracting them to his line. The night I caught one he gave me another to take home.

One Saturday I got a call from a greengrocer in Anstruther, asking if I could deliver two bags of potatoes right away as he had run out. I was happy to oblige.

I was leaning over the harbour rail watching the boats when I heard my name being hailed.

There was Paddy, a local fisherman who ran fishing trips in the Forth for visitors.

“I’m one short for this trip, John. Do you want to come?” Why not?

We chugged out down the Forth, then he stopped his engine. I was given a line on a wooden frame with a weight and a hook. I threaded the lugworm on the hook and dropped it over the side.

“When it hits the bottom, lift it two feet up,” Paddy instructed.

I did, and in no time at all felt a tug. The next minute I was reeling in a good-sized codling.

I caught six altogether that day, two of which I took home.

I don’t reckon that was real fishing, though. It was just knowing when to strike and hook your fish.

I once bought a second-hand flyrod and a reel, plus the other bits, in the hope I’d find someone to teach me to use them.

When Anne and I went on holiday for a few days to Killin, at the head of Loch Tay, I put the rod in the car.

The local newsagent sold permits for fishing in the river and one for various lochs.

I bought a permit and one evening went to a loch near Ben Lawers, where I caught two trout! It was a fluke, I’m sure, but Anne says I was like a dog with two tails.

I really must learn to fish properly, as there’s nothing more relaxing than being alone with nature, a rod and line and just casting in hope.