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1995-2000, Approaching the Millenium

1995-2005, The First Ten Years - The Beginning

2000-Present, The Millennium and Beyond

A Fish Called Mavis - Dave Johnson

A Floppy Hatter at Pewsham – Jon Berry

A GOOD INTERIOR DECORATOR

A Very Special Barbel

Anything two can do, one can do better - Fred Crouch

At the water's edge: 20th January 2011

BARBEL BY THE ABBEY

Barbel Handling Code

Barbel School

Barbel School 2012

Barbel Society statement; River predators

Barbel Society supports river improvement

Barbel Society, Research and Conservation projects

Barbel stocking, Barbel Society and EA reach agreement

Barbel’s eye View - Martin Ford

Blueprint for Water

Centrepins and using them.

Christmas - Will Golightly

As the snowflakes tumbled silently down to settle onto the thickening white blanket, the young boy peered out of the window, his breath misting the glass as he strained forward to get a better view.
His dog, a battered-eared old terrier, nudged his leg with its wet nose, seeking a pat or tickle, but the boy was far too preoccupied to notice.

“It must stop snowing soon, it must!” the boy mumbled to himself.

Christmas had come, and with it the excitement of presents at the bottom of the bed, rapped in shiny paper covered in holly and stars. Strange shapes and bumps to feel, and noises to hear as the boy rattled and shook each parcel, in a vain attempt to guess the contents. Eventually curiosity got the better of him and he had ripped each present open, finding treasures galore. Annuals from Auntie Ruth, socks from Uncle Roger, a football from old Sam. Finally only one remained, the biggest one! A large box with purple paper and a red bow, and a large label saying ‘Love from Mum and Dad’

It didn’t feel very heavy, and it never made any noise. It had him completely baffled. He took a corner of the paper and began to pull, just so he could see a small piece of the box. It didn’t give anything away, as it was just cardboard. He pulled further and exposed a big gash of brown box. Still no label showing. Finally he pulled all of the wrapping off and stood back to look at a big plain cardboard box. No clues still. He stepped forward and began to open the lid, almost expecting something to pop out, just like his sister’s jack-in-the-box.

The box was empty! He flung both lids wide open and leant forward, almost toppling into the box himself. Wait a minute! There was something inside; a small card was there in the corner. He picked it out and turned it over.
It said, ‘Come downstairs’
He leapt up and raced down, his feet hardly touching each step, before crashing through the door and into the room. The dog begun barking madly at the sudden thunder of feet, thinking that there must be some battle taking place that he, as family guardian, was needed at urgently.
The boy stopped, blinked twice and then rubbed his eyes. There in front of him was the best Christmas present ever. A long cloth bag, half pulled down, almost like a school sock, revealed two sections of a shiny new rod, next to it was a beautiful green chair, with extended feet and a reclining back rest. In front of that was a shiny box with the lid propped open, letting him see a black and gold reel with a glistening spool of line, and resting across the chair was a large net attached to a telescopic handle. All around this, small items of essential extras lay, just asking to be picked up and touched.
“Shut up dog,” shouted his father, who had been sitting quietly next to mum, waiting for the boy to come down. The boy was distracted away for a second from his treasures as he gave bear hugs to both parents, before then assembling the rod and reel, and spending the morning pretending to strike at floats sliding away and tips pulling around, as mum prepared the turkey and dad played Kerplunk with his sister.

That had been three days ago, and it had done what it never normally does at Christmas ever since, snow! Not just a few flakes, but big heavy blankets that had put paid to any chance of trying his new tackle out. He had tried to persuade his dad to take him on Christmas day, but with no success, and now they couldn’t even get the car out the drive. Frustration had been assuaged slightly as he had practised underarm casting whilst leaning out of his bedroom window, but the lead had swung back and hit the patio window as he reeled in, resulting in a severe ear-bending from his mum, so that had to stop. He had contemplated tying the end of the line to the cat, just to get the feel of playing a big one, but then had decided that was too risky, he might damage the rod!

As the evening of the 27th began to close in, the first signs of a break appeared in the cloudy sky. The lumps of white fluff had slowed, before finally stopping just before dark.
“Dad, it’s stopped, can we go fishing now?”
“Maybe tomorrow son, let’s wait and see shall we”, came the well-practised reply.

The next day was one of those beautiful mornings that we so rarely get nowadays, and the boy had to blink at the brightness reflected off the crisp snow as he looked out of his bedroom window. He quickly dressed and went down, to ask THE question, but as he reached the bottom of the stairs, there was his tackle, next to his dads stuff, with wellington boots placed ready. Yessssssssss!

After a quick breakfast, with liberal helpings of advice to eat and drink slower from his mother, he then helped his dad load the back of the Landrover, gave the dog a quick pat, and then hopped in, full of excitement that almost makes a boy explode. Ten minutes later they pulled into a cutting, followed by a short trudge across a field with snow that at times breached the tops of his oversize wellies, although he could not have cared less today. The river beckoned.

The boy took his shiny new rod out of its bag and attached the reel, wiping his finger around each eye as he threaded the line through them, before slipping on a small lead, and tying a hook, just has he had been shown. His father offered him the shiny tin, with its lid already removed, and a tangle of worms resting inside. He deliberated for a second, then chose one and placed it onto his hook, before standing ready to cast. He expertly caught the line behind his finger, slid open the bail and prepared to cast. Then he paused. He turned towards his father who was standing proudly next to the boy.

“Thanks Dad!”

Will Golightly
December 2006

Close Season Petition

Cormorants – Biodiversity in Danger

Damaged Membership letter

Day on the Frome

Days Out With The Juniors

DRAGGED TO THE TRENT (KICKING and SCREAMING) - Paul Owens

EXCITEMENT, ANTICIPATION, HEARTACHE AND JOY

Friday The 13th - Adrian Kiddell

GOVERNMENT REJECTS CANOEISTS’ CALL FOR STATUTORY RIGHT OF ACCESS TO RIVERS AND STREAMS

Half year offer

Juniors - Tips of the month - JULY

Juniors - Tips of the month - JUNE