Originally a much shorter version, that started as a write up of a weeks holiday afloat aboard the Herbert Woods Hire Craft Glittering Light 25th August 2012, now much expanded with many additional illustrations and photographs.

Thanks go to everyone at http://www.the-norfolk-broads.co.uk for their help and encouragement.

If you enjoyed this publication help a bloke buy a boat and make a donation!

Chapter One

‘Hi De Hi!’

“That’s it, I'm not going!” was the wail that the ‘SWMBO’ (She Who Must Be Obeyed) greeted me with on the Saturday morning of my eagerly anticipated return to the Norfolk Broads.

I had heard SWMBO make this threat on several occasions since the holiday was booked as a means to control the moans, gripes and general teenage pig headedness of Oedipus the youngest lad.

“I’m taking the dog to...” I started to say but gave up and headed back home.

Fortunately my living arrangements mean that SWMBO and I do not live in the same house. We are in fact neighbours. I think it was Katharine Hepburn who said “Sometimes I wonder if men and women really suit each other. Perhaps they should live next door and just visit now and then.” Smart lady!

I loaded my reluctant, rotund (we avoid using the ‘f’ word around him) beagle into the car, reversed from the hard standing, slightly over revving the engine and set off to take Dylan (Dylly to his friends) to my parent’s for the week. After various chores, and family squabbles (only ended when all concerned realised that whatever was said and whoever decided they weren't going, I at least would be going) everyone and everything was finally jammed into the car and I settled back to enjoy, and I mean it, the drive through Lincolnshire to Norfolk. With Bach buzzing in my ears I soaked in the countryside bathed in bright sunshine as it slipped by the car windows. I love the change in church architecture as Norfolk draws nearer. Square Saxon and Norman towers slowly give way to graceful spires as the fens approach.

Gedney...rain! Deerham, now if you live there don't take this personally, but just for information purposes, why does it always smell of pig ‘doings’ and why does it always...rain? First Norwich sign approaches...rain increasing. First sign for ‘The Broads’...torrential rain. SWMBO sighs. Potter Heigham... in my excitement I miss the turning for the old bridge. Whilst travelling over the new bridge I nearly wipe us out pointing to places I've been to in my youth. Finally we arrive at the Herbert Woods boatyard ten minutes before the time we were due to book in, and the rain... has stopped.

And so has time it seems! Yes there is a nice modern frontage to the booking office, yet behind all that lies the 1950’s in all it’s glory, dripping with nostalgia. I half expect to see Peggy and Ted Bovis troop from one of the wooden sheds shouting ‘Hi De Hi’!

Scents of water, damp wood and diesel waft towards us as we go to book in.

“Can you smell it?” asks Oedipus.

I tentatively take a sniff, now used to what passes for a joke amongst teenage boys, carefully watching the lad’s face for a hint of a smirk.

“It smells of Norfolk!” the lad exclaims breaking into a genuine excited smile.

SWMBO and Oedipus go to book us in while I find somewhere to park the car before joining them in the office, dodging around the steadily lengthening queue of eager holiday makers, and head straight for the counter where I find the boat is not ready and they do not have a dinghy for us until Monday. We troop out of the office and across the road for a much needed coffee and mooch around Lathems’, before buying three pints of maggots (much to SWMBO’s disgust) and heading back to see if the boat is ready.

“Go see Stuart round the back!” is the instruction so off we troop to the boatyard.

There is another queue forming to see ‘Stuart’, who takes each individual family at a time to see their boat. Even though the boats may be moored together at the other side of the boatyard, he still takes each family individually. A personal touch maybe, but one that leaves us waiting for three quarters of an hour until it is our turn to be shown to the boat. Eventually we march off across to the other side of the yard and Glittering Light 2 is presented to us, complete with a tool box sitting on the stern. The sky is darkening as SWMBO and Oedipus troop off to get the lifejackets and I park the car alongside a boat shed and thankfully right next to the Glittering Light.

I join SWMBO at the life jacket hut and listen in to the instructions passed onto the waiting queue of people. A distant rumble of thunder alerts me to the prospect of yet more rain. A sudden stab of lightning sends me scurrying to the car to get unloaded before the rain starts. However it is not until SWMBO and Oedipus return twenty minutes later, bearing life jackets, that I am allowed to put our belongings on board. Now something must have broken as it was an engineer type person that was working aboard.

Everything is now stowed on board, with SWMBO and Oedipus taking possession of the large double berths in the bow and lounge, leaving me the aft cabin. I suppress a little smirk before they ‘cotton on’ to the fact they have made a mistake in the rush to get comfortable. It’s now a waiting game to go through the hand over. We wait, and we wait and then we wait a little bit more. Bearing in mind we were the first to book in we are the last to depart. Eventually it is our turn and the handover is brief to say the least.

“Have you been before?”

“Yes”

“Good, I'm tired. Diesel here, water there, pump out here, engine here, do the usual checks. I've turned the gas on, and the fridge, pump outs on the back, have a good time”.

The time is now six forty five and finally I ease the throttle forward from the flying bridge and take the boat of the yard and onto the river.

Chapter Two

A Ghost of Norfolk Past

The River Thurne is the backdrop to my life. Boating, fishing, camping, holidays to honeymoons, even a near miraculous recovery from severe illness, have all taken place on this stretch of water. However standing on the flying bridge of the Glittering Light provided a perspective I had not seen before. As the sky darkened and thunder rumbled in the distance, the extra height helped draw the eye to what lies beyond the waterfront. Lightning flashes to my right as we reach Repps and ‘Tin Town’ dwindles lending a sense of urgency to the need to find moorings.

Waterside shacks give way to fields and the river is now lined with swishing reeds as yet another flash of lightning, followed by another and then a low deep rumble of thunder announces our arrival at Thurne Dyke. Many of you may be familiar with the Ghost of Thurne Mouth but have you ever witnessed the Blue Lady of Thurne Dyke? I have, and the memory of the sight of that fearsome apparition still sends a shiver down my spine.

The year was 1973 and I was seven years old. Fogs and mists hugged the dykes and ditches that ringed the fields around the village of Thurne. Dad woke me with a shake and I crawled from my sleeping bag cold and shivering, yet eager for an early mornings fishing session. Setting off across the fields the fog seemed to close in around us. My footsteps sounded muffled as I tried to keep up with my Dad as he shouldered his fishing basket and strode across the fields.

Dad vanished from sight as we came to the end of the field. I rushed forward not daring to call for him. You see, I could hear another set of footsteps behind me, desperately I looked over my shoulder to see what ghoulish nightmare was chasing me and ran straight into the back of my Dad. We both stood still, the only noise we could hear was a strange groaning noise as though some poor wretch twisted and writhed on the point of a blood soaked knife.

Suddenly a shrill squeal pierced the air and I clung to my Dad’s legs, as heavy footsteps thudded on the grass approaching us. From the gloom a ghostly human figure draped in a flowing white gown that dripped blood,

blood turned blue in the unreal fog shrouded morning. Relentlessly the figure approached looking from right to left as though searching for something...searching for us?

Three steps away from us the figure lifted its arms blindly flailing and groping, I could see the slavering toothless maw that .ade a dark gash across its face, two steps away and the figure seemed to look right at me, one step away and my dad pushed me behind him as the figure walked right into him and screamed...

“The bloody portaloos fallen over” the apparition wailed.

“Bloody hell Mrs!” screamed Dad back at an old lady with no teeth and wearing a nightdress covered in the blue and brown stuff from her interrupted morning ablutions. Scarey or what?

We've cruised to Thurne Mouth and Norfolk is really trying hard to ‘storm on my holiday’. Do I care? Not one bit, I'm loving it! Piloting a boat through the wind and rain, thunder rumbles again, closer this time as I hunt out our moorings for the night. My original plans were to make for Fleet Dyke at the entrance to South Walsham Broad. From memory and from the Broads Authority map we had been given at the boatyard there were extensive moorings available, besides which it used to be damned good fishing!

The oncoming thunderstorm and the evening are racing each other to foil my plans and ‘light may stop play’ as the wind picks up across Upton and South Walsham Marshes. The rain increases, and stab after stab of lightning arcs across a sky the colour of hammered steel. I revel in it. This is freedom, no longer chained to my desk indeed I am Ahab and Fleet Dyke is my leviathan as I laugh into the storm the wind shrieking...

“Oi...I said do you want a coffee and are we nearly there yet? And I need to find a shop tomorrow its not very clean in here...” said SWMBO through the hatch from the galley to the bridge.

Across the fields of South Walsham Marsh the reeds and scrub of Ward Marsh are now coming into view. To my right St Benet's Abbey, the gatehouse wrapped in scaffolding looks like a modern sculpture...and I've made it! Hang on, what’s with all the boats moored at the Abbey?

I maneuver into Fleet Dyke dismayed to see not the moorings I remembered but...reed beds! I checked the

map...which still says moorings and looked at the reed beds with the “Danger” sign hammered into the bank. Only one thing for it, I will just have to make it into the broad and anchor on the mud weight overnight. As the first evening comes to a close I slip the mud weight from the bow just as the sun slips behind the trees that ring the west of the broad. My head is pounding, I'm tired and much to the surprise of SWMBO and Oedipus I drink my coffee, take my bedtime tablets and go straight to bed dreaming of boats, whales and something I spotted away to my right about halfway along Fleet Dyke which I will investigate tomorrow!

Chapter Three

Relief Channel

I awoke to a glorious Broads early morning. A five thirty early morning to be exact, feeling refreshed after an excellent night’s sleep in my cosy cabin. I slipped through to the saloon and to my surprise SWMBO was already awake.

“Tim, how do the toilet’s work?” she greeted me.

After the briefest of explanations she departed leaving me to wander to the stern and enjoy my morning ‘roll up’. Yes I know I shouldn’t smoke, especially after fourteen strokes and three heart attacks, however twelve of those strokes and all three heart attacks followed attempts to give up smoking. So these days I smoke...and I’ve not had a problem since I stopped ‘stopping’. I headed back ‘below’ and a much relieved SWMBO passed me a coffee and my morning assortment of medication, do you know I sometimes think I must rattle when I start to walk!

As Oedipus was still sleeping, SWMBO had a chance to chat to me about the boat, and she was not happy. We were aboard Glittering Light 2 from Herbert Woods. I’ve been many times with the boat yard and always been happy, although the last holiday suffered from mechanical problems with the boat. We had booked this boat boat on a 50% off deal, and I’m glad we had not paid full price, as we would have been disappointed. The appointment of the boat was comfortable, however much service meant that the boat was ‘tired’ looking. Joints at windows were ‘sprung’ and roughly filled with what looked like a mixture of bathroom sealants. To me this was only to be expected from a hire boat, but once again I was glad I had not paid the ‘full whack’.

SWMBO on the other hand was more bothered about the cleanliness of the boat.

“There’s ‘pee’ all around the toilet in the front, and it’s not ours. I also found an empty beer bottle, loads of beer bottle tops and bits of old tissue in the front.” she explained.

SWMBO is fastidious about cleanliness but I seconded her wish to make an immediate trip to buy disinfectant and cleaning products when I found a complete fingernail in the rear bathroom. I was starting to suspect a mechanical problem had meant the boat had nothing more than a swift flick with a duster before we took it over! SWMBO started to root around in cupboards in the galley and produced a measuring jug still sticky with encrusted food...it was now 7.30 am and I started the engine while SWMBO dug into the depths of her case and came up with small bottles of cleaning fluids, pan scrubs and wipes. I slipped the throttle of Glittering Light gently forward before dropping her back into neutral, and walked to the bow to collect the mud weight, before once again gently throttling forward and headed out of the broad to Fleet Dyke as SWMBO called for hot water.

Maps! I love maps, and especially maps of the Broads! So with my collection of maps and tables spread on the hatch of the flying bridge I set course along Fleet Dyke looking for the oddity I had spotted yesterday. Sure enough, now over to my left and bisecting Ward March from Waldron and Hadney Marshes was a channel...quite a considerable channel. The height of the bridge now gave me a good view of it in the early morning sunshine. Checking my Broads Authority map, the channel was not shown, just a small what I was starting to suspect was an Oxbow Lake. Intrigued I couldn’t wait to get to St Benet’s to see if my suspicions were correct. If they were I would kick myself for never realising. You see I may be an illustrator and animator now but in a former life before my first stroke I was an archaeologist, and it was trips to St Benet’s and watching the restoration of the rood screen at Ranworth that first sparked my interest as a kid.

St Benet’s came into view and sure enough I started kicking myself. Of course the channel was the original course of the Bure, which must mean two things. Womack Water is the original mouth of the River Ant and...I needed to buy an Ordnance Survey Map when we got to Wroxham. You see I like to know where I am, what things look like now but more importantly what they looked like in the past.

Joining the Bure we slowly made our way up stream to Ranworth as the sounds of cleaning and scrubbing came from below. As Glittering Light entered Ranworth Dam there was a tap on the galley window to the starboard side of the flying bridge. I slid the window open and a coffee was thrust into my hand, followed by

the notification that SWMBO was going for a shower. After a circuit of Malthouse Broad Oedipus made an appearance and took over the helm while I took the opportunity to nip below to make a roll up. Inside, the Glittering Light once again glittered and all was right with the world as I joined Oedipus back ‘up top’ for one more circuit of Ranworth before heading for Wroxham.

Chapter Four

The Wroxham Cockup

If Potter Heigham is the essence of the 1950’s then, for all it’s modernity, Wroxham, through my rose tinted eyes, is the 1920’s. The riverside residences of the Thurne (although expensive) now seem gaudy cheap imitators of the architectural opulence of the upper Bure. As Glittering Light cruises steadily upriver I regret ever choosing accademia as a career path. I should have gone into banking...or something that really pays like ‘tiling’ to achieve my Norfolk daydreams. As I approach Barnes Brinkcraft, my intended mooring spot, I start to get nervous. I recently discovered the Barnes Brinkcraft HD Webcam. I’m addicted! The large T.V. screen that dominates my tiny adapted flat is permanently hooked up to my all singing all dancing laptop (won in an animation contest at Christmas) and before I start work Wroxham is my window on the Broads if not the world. In all honesty it’s as close as I’m going to get to my dream of owning a boat for a long time. As I come into camera range aboard the Glittering light my main fear is that I will become the latest star of a Youtube mooring fiasco. This is quickly replaced by the realisation I’m proudly displaying the forum logo’s Jaguar printed off for me!

Now bow is up stream...

“We are about to moor!” I call down through the hatch from the bridge to SWMBO and Oedipus who do not move other than to look through another window.

Ah! There’s space available!

“Can you come up and help moor the boat?” My call still gets no response.

“All hands on deck! Can you come and help? Oi!” none of which get’s a response.

The quayside is moving ever closer and I cut my speed and align the boat, in desperation, poor etiquette I know, I beep the horn and SWMBO pokes her head through the hatch.

“Did you want something?” she asks.

“Can you both come and help moor the boat...please!” I'm getting antsy!

I've positioned the boat perfectly all SWMBO and Oedipus have to do is hop ashore and tie it up, of course by the time they've taken the last swallow from a cup of coffee, finished tidying the magazines away and ‘mooched’ on deck SWMBO aft and Oedipus forward I've realised I'm the wrong way around and the stern is starting to swing out into the river as SWMBO finally makes the jump ashore. By now the stern is starting to swing to mid river and the bow is ‘point on’ to the bank. I try to bring the stern back into line, but only succeed in moving the bow away. Oh God! All on camera!

SWMBO and Oedipus are now just stood on the quay holding ropes and making no attempt to tie up. There’s only one thing for it. I pop the boat into neutral, nip to the bow and jump ashore, taking the rope from Oedipus. My scouting skills come in handy here as I loop a quick clove hitch and make the bow fast before taking the rope from SWMBO and manually dragging the stern into position. Engines off, a complete cockup but we are moored! When I say a complete cockup, that brings to mind my last visit to moor at Barnes Brinkcraft. My face colours instantly, and SWMBO grins at me.

“Remember the last time we were here?”

Six years ago following a rapid succession of strokes, which my family were told would only do more damage and become more frequent, my Dad decided it was time to take me and my daughter on holiday to the broads for the last time. At the next to last minute Oedipus asked if he could come too...and then my Stepmum backed out at the very last minute and SWMBO took her place on board another Herbert Woods boat, a bathtub called Pearl of Light. A couple of weeks prior to the holiday I had undergone a vasectomy. Pain? Don’t talk to me about pain! I know every bump on the car journey from Lincoln to Gainsborough. So after the ‘snip’ at mid point through the holiday I had to provide ‘a sample’ to make sure everything had worked.

The plan was simple, SWMBO would take the two kids, eight and ten, ashore with my Dad to leave me some privacy to complete the deed where upon I would join them in McDonalds at Roys after I had posted the sample. So we moored at Barnes Brinkcraft and I nipped into a cabin, with sample bottle, as I heard the last

The Glittering Light Slips into Wroxham as SWMBO & Oedipus 'mooch' on deck.

Image from the Barnes Brinkcraft Webcam & found by 'London Rascal' Thanks Robin!

set of feet exit the boat. I had already drawn the curtains...

“...so I said to Edith...’ere this boats shaking a bit!”

Oh Christ, there’s someone stood right outside the window. I know I’ll start the engine!

I start the engine and return to the cabin.

“...and you know Edith she’s got those horrible lumps all over her back...”

Oh God please shut up! Felicity kendall...The Oxo Lady...(I'm showing my age) Oh yes her out of Blakes 7...

There’s a sudden hammering on the cabin door.

“Son! Son! Tim! Are you alright?” shouts my dad pounding again on the door.

“Bugger off!” I yell.

“I was only concerned!” Dad replies petulantly. “I’ll go back to my paper, I only wondered why you started the engine and the boat was shaking, woke me up!”

Jesus Christ on crutches!

Sometime later I emerge from the cabin, red faced but finally with sample bottle in it’s envelope marked ‘medical sample’ ready to post.

“Ready then?” asks Dad grinning, as we disembark and start the walk through the boatyards to the Post Office where I realise my ordeal has not quite ended.

“What kind of sample? asks the Postmistress as I eventually reach the front of a very long queue.

“It says on the front, ‘medical sample’” I pointed out.

“What?” asks the slightly deaf Postmistress.

“A medical sample!” I raise my voice aware of my speech impediment after the stroke and sudden interest in my ‘package’ from the queue behind me.

“I need to know what kind of medical sample!” shouts the Postmistress thinking I'm deaf, stupid or both.

“Surely not?” I ask.

“Is it blood? Or...”

“No” I interrupt.

“Or urine?” continues the Postmistress pronouncing the last word with relish and annoyingly making sure it rhymed with ‘wine’.

“No it’s sperm!” I try to mutter out of the side of my mouth, not easy when you've had a stroke.

“What?” shouts the Postmistress gleefully.

“It’s sperm!” I yell aware of the laughter behind me as the Postmistress finally accepts the package and fills out the relevant (if it really existed, I suspect not) forms.

“Next!” she yells as I make a swift exit.

Sod McDonalds! I find the nearest pub with my Dad ambling behind me chuckling.

“Need a stiff one son?”

Oh Jesus! I've just had a thought...how long has that damned webcam been operational?

Where was I? Shower. I had a shower and then Wroxham, yes Wroxham is the 1920’s to my rose tinted eyes. Forgive me I do ramble on occasion. Dear old Potter Heigham has an air of deshabille, yet Wroxham, even on the back streets lined with boatyards has a certain sartorial elegance. As we walk into town I pass one of my favourite shops, Jeckells of Wroxham. I’ve never been inside yet have spent hours looking in the windows. One day, one day I will walk inside to organise having my own boat upholstered. One day!

A quick trip to the perfumery at Roys to keep SWMBO happy. SWMBO is a perfume fanatic, quite an expert, a nose. She can tell you the constituents of an individual fragrance, when it was first created, for whom, well basically the ins and outs of the cat’s backside! A quick tip to the manager at Roy’s...give SWMBO a job before Dior start ringing her to boost their Christmas sales....again! Quite the saleswoman is SWMBO.

She pointed out a catalogue of improvements she could make to your store before I got bored and wandered outside for a smoke.

A trip to the Roy’s food hall. Now Mr Roy, you’ve got this bit right! I ‘relish’ a trip to Roy’s food hall. As I have mentioned before SWMBO and I live next door to each other, yet we treat everything as one household when it comes to bills and shopping, with one exception. When it comes to food I seem to live on a diet of Tesco ‘own brand’ while on the other side of the fence everything seems to be branded goods. So when it came to stock the larder at Roy’s I was delighted to see not one single drab grey or red and white labelled product. With glee I loaded Kenco coffee (I’m a coffee addict, Old Brown Java my favourite) into the shopping cart before leaving SWMBO to the rest of the shop while I went to look at the fresh fruit and vegetables (SWMBO and especially Oedipus seem to have an aversion to fresh fruit and vegetables). Finally carrying shopping bags bulging with groceries and essential cleaning products for SWMBO, beer and coffee for me, we go for lunch at the cafe by the bridge before heading back to the Glittering Light.

Chapter Five

Salhouse, Oiks and Perch

The perfect holiday, indeed the perfect life in my opinion needs three elements. The primary element is The Norfolk Broads, the secondary element is a boat and the tertiary element is fishing. I’ve tried all three elements in various combinations, but only one combination works.

In making our pre holiday cruising plans Oedipus and I intended to spend sunday night and monday morning fishing at Salhouse Broad which in my opinion is one of the prime fishing locations The Broads has to offer. One species in particular will be our quarry over the following evening and morning...that spiky little predator the perch! For many anglers of my generation the greedy perch was one of the very first fish they caught. Sadly over the late seventies and eighties ‘Perch Disease’ saw numbers of these fish plummet across the country, yet the species is making a comeback and having skipped a generation the perch is quite likely the first fish caught by the kids of today. This was the case with Oedipus. His first fish was a perch, caught at Salhouse Broad...and it was a big one!

Before leaving Wroxham I take the opportunity to rig up a couple of my rods on the quay. Two float rods, one a Shakespeare Mach 3 13ft match rod fitted with a modern Browning fixed spool reel with 6lb line, waggler float, through to a 3lb hook length and size 18 barbless hook (Drennan Super Specialist being my first choice). The other rod a Shimano Barbel rod with the float tip and fitted with a vintage Allcocks Aerial centrepin reel (that belonged to Great Grandfather), 8lb line with a waggler straight through to a size 14 barbless Drennan Super Specialist hook. The rods are laid on top of the boat and secured to the handrails with a couple of large elastic bands I scrounged from my local postwoman. The elastic bands mean the rods won’t get blown or dragged from the boat by passing shrubbery and should some light fingered toerag be tempted to ‘half inch’ them while I’m asleep by the time he’s got them free of the hand rails I’ve woken up and beaten three shades of Ess Haitch One Tee out of them!

Finally we are ready to depart Wroxham and Oedipus fire’s up the engine. I loose the forward line and the current gently begins to swing Glittering Light’s bow to mid river, while I loose the stern rope and slowly make my way to the bridge. It’s then a case of slipping on a few rev’s and Glittering Light gently complete’s her single handed turn and heads down stream. Slick! I purposefully resist the urge to smile and wave at the webcam in case it caught my earlier cockup!

We set a stately pace down the Bure, SWMBO looking at the riverside houses as we pass. Oedipus takes over the helm as we leave Wroxham, Snape’s Water away to our left. Could this be the real place that Snape left the sword of Gryffindor for Harry Potter? It’s all true you know! Evil despicable types taking over the government hell bent on torturing the poor and disabled...and I bet David Voldermoron cast an ‘inferioroso’ spell at the first Cabinet Meeting that made all the Lib Dem’s chairs sink below table height!

As we approach Wroxham Broad a ‘chav’ of coots run helter skelter across the water in front of us.

“Oh look it’s Dave!” says SWMBO.

On our last holiday on the Broads some six years ago the kids were feeding the ducks and a coot at the side of the boat, The Pearl of Light, while we were moored at Acle Bridge. The following day, at Beccles, they were once again feeding the ducks.

“Look a coot!” cries Electra (the daughter).

“Do you think it’s the same one as yesterday?” Oedipus asks her.

I was fishing from the stern ‘earwigging’ the conversation.

“I think so.” says Electra “We should give it a name!”

“Dave!” says Oedipus.

Dave? Dave Coot? Not Cyril, Cecil or even a Claire but Dave? Henceforth all coots are now called Dave and as a family, wherever in the country we may be, whenever we see a coot we always say ‘hello’ to Dave, just in case it is the same one following us around.

We pass the public mooring at Wroxham Broad opposite Hudson’s Bay, around the ‘dog leg’ of the river as it skirts Short Fen which in turn forms the western edge of Hoveton Great Broad. Salhouse comes into view.

“We’re here already?” SWMBO asks as she and Oedipus hastily have a discussion and rearrange the days mooring arrangements.

“We’ll go to Ranworth!” SWMBO instructs mistakenly thinking that she is driving the boat.

Still I’m deliriously happy sitting on the bridge with a roll up as SWMBO goes ‘below’ with Oedipus and makes a coffee.

Upon reaching Malthouse Broad I surveyed the island for a mooring, saw that the staithe was ‘chock a bloc’ and opted to move to the far eastern end of the broad and anchor on the mud weight and try a spot of fishing. The day was warm, with a wind the ‘rag and stick’ fraternity seemed to be enjoying. We were hailed by a passing forum member ‘Pauline’ I think? I do apologise you see I am a little deaf and do wear a hearing aid, that is to say that before I met SWMBO I wore a hearing aid. Its now kept in my desk drawer at home. I find it makes conversations with SWMBO far more interesting. Lets face it when I wear the hearing aid she talks a lot about makeup and the ailments of passing acquaintances, which I find a little dull. Without the hearing aid I’m fairly sure she’s started talking about boats, fishing, art and 3D modelling!

The fishing is rubbish, to be honest I don’t think I have ever caught anything on Malthouse Broad. Ever! To make matters worse a small boat load of oiks, I count at least ten on a small Shetland, turn up and moor about fifty yards away. On goes the loud music and into the water jump six of them swimming and splashing about. I then spend an entertaining twenty minutes watching them get colder and colder as they realise they can’t get back onto the boat and face a long swim to shore and then having to beg a lift back out to the boat (as the one who knows how to start it is stuck in the water). They eventually work out how to get back on the boat. Shame! Oedipus is getting bored and disappears below. I start to count under my breath, and I get to at least twenty before SWMBO appears on deck.

“Can we go somewhere else?” she asks.

I’m already winding in my line and heading down to start the engine. Finally we arrive at Salhouse. It’s busy but I manage to slip into the end berth at the eastern end of Salhouse Island. Looking downstream from the stern of Glittering light to my right are the wooded slopes of Broom Hill and to my left is Hall Fen. Finally I get to start fishing on a sunny evening accompanied by a roll up and a beer to the distant music of the Norfolk Wherry Brass Band...bliss!

As a mentioned before perch were the species Oedipus and I were after catching. There are many methods of catching ‘large’ perch, from spinning to live baiting. Back at home my preferred method is a large juicy lob worm float fished in the margins of ‘The Warping Drain’. I’m not a fan of live baiting...just won’t do it, spinning is all well and good but as we had caught nothing at all this trip and we were already on day two, I went for my favorite approach.

Perch hunt like a wolf pack, yet unlike wolves will think nothing of devouring their own should they be smaller. Big perch are the ones that feed on lots of little fish, so wherever there are lots of little fish and cover for the perch to hide in...there you will find big perch. So with this in mind in went the groundbait, a mixture of brown and white crumb with a couple of good handfuls of hemp seed. Over this I kept a constant steady feed of maggot with red maggot on the hook. The fish at Salhouse prefer red maggot to any other colour. Soon we were catching, and not just tiddlers! There were some nice roach to be had up to the pound mark. Not only did I keep an eye on the float but I also kept an eye on the surrounding water watching for a sudden surge from the shoals of small fish feeding on our bait. This would be the sign that the perch were on the attack. Sure enough it was not long before I spotted the fry scattering in all directions, and in went the second rod with the larger hook with as many maggots crammed onto the hook as possible.

The light was beginning to dim...perfect time for perch. My float made a sudden dip, I struck, the rod tip bent...and then relaxed and all of a sudden slack water seemed to have arrived and the fish stopped biting. Oedipus had already gone back onboard so I wound in my line, took a photograph of the beautiful evening, cracked open another beer and picked up my drawing pad. If I couldn’t catch a perch I would just have to draw one!

I’m already winding in my line and heading down to start the engine. Finally we arrive at Salhouse. It’s busy but I manage to slip into the end berth at the eastern end of Salhouse Island. Looking downstream from the stern of Glittering light to my right are the wooded slopes of Broom Hill and to my left is Hall Fen. Finally I get to start fishing on a sunny evening accompanied by a roll up and a beer to the distant music of the Norfolk Wherry Brass Band...bliss!

As a mentioned before perch were the species Oedipus and I were after catching. There are many methods of catching ‘large’ perch, from spinning to live baiting. Back at home my preferred method is a large juicy lob worm float fished in the margins of ‘The Warping Drain’. I’m not a fan of live baiting...just won’t do it, spinning is all well and good but as we had caught nothing at all this trip and we were already on day two, I went for my favorite approach.

Perch hunt like a wolf pack, yet unlike wolves will think nothing of devouring their own should they be smaller. Big perch are the ones that feed on lots of little fish, so wherever there are lots of little fish and cover for the perch to hide in...there you will find big perch. So with this in mind in went the groundbait, a mixture of brown and white crumb with a couple of good handfuls of hemp seed. Over this I kept a constant steady feed of maggot with red maggot on the hook. The fish at Salhouse prefer red maggot to any other colour. Soon we were catching, and not just tiddlers! There were some nice roach to be had up to the pound mark. Not only did I keep an eye on the float but I also kept an eye on the surrounding water watching for a sudden surge from the shoals of small fish feeding on our bait. This would be the sign that the perch were on the attack. Sure enough it was not long before I spotted the fry scattering in all directions, and in went the second rod with the larger hook with as many maggots crammed onto the hook as possible.

The light was beginning to dim...perfect time for perch. My float made a sudden dip, I struck, the rod tip bent...and then relaxed and all of a sudden slack water seemed to have arrived and the fish stopped biting. Oedipus had already gone back onboard so I wound in my line, took a photograph of the beautiful evening, cracked open another beer and picked up my drawing pad. If I couldn’t catch a perch I would just have to draw one!