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Lies, Damned Lies and Anglers
The One That Got Away and Other Fishy Tales
By Bruce Sandison
Foreword by Jim Seaton
I was woken rudely the other morning as a parcel thumped through my letter box, to be ignored off course, except for my dog, who insisted in telling me repeatedly that there had been a strange noise.
Giving up hope of any more kip I arose, detached my tongue from the roof of my mouth and in time found myself reading the latest offering from Mr Sandison. A collection of previously published articles from newspapers covering a good deal of the author's prodigious career spanning much of his life from childhood to the present. A considerable span of time.
Tales of childhood innocence exploring the Water of Leith and the Tweed using horse hair as leader material, jings that is old, but wearing well. Stories about opulent packed lunches prepared by Anne, the more productive angler in the senior pairing of the Sandison clan. Tales including details of some of the best locations in Scotland to detach trout from their natural habitat. Sandison is as ever generous with his articles, not just listing locations but describing how and where to fish the water.
As one angler who has explored many a highland loch Sandison's book brought back many happy memories of trudging across barren moors to find a misty lochan, of hours drifting on lochs wading in rivers, of trout caught and lost, wild life and wild flowers, smells and sounds that makes the wild fishing that Sandison is a proponent off so alluring.
Stories abound about the inter family competitiveness and the head off the household's efforts to stay top dog which off course had led to some terrible accusations from offspring suggesting daddy was less than accurate in the telling of some of his fishy tales. Having read about the family as it has grown up over the many years the Sandison clan has become something of the piscatorial version of the 'Broons' to me.
I do not, off course, believe for one minute that Mr Sandison would tell lies about his angling exploits, nor would he associate with those how might guild the lily, but he does seem to know an awful lot about that other angling pastime. No not fly tying nor assessing the qualities of whisky I mean talking, talking about fishing, being expansive about how well one did, being economical with the accuracy of ones narrative. Anglers are off course supermen / women capable of magnifying fish with their very own eyes, seeing the 'bigger' picture one might say, than mere mortals.
As ever Sandison amuses, informs and inspires the reader to explore the myriad lochs and rivers of our Scottish home land reminding you, the angler, that the joy of fishing is not necessarily the catching of big fat stockies but the wholeness of fishing in wild and beautiful places and maybe, if the angling gods are with you, catching a fine brace of breakfast sized brownies (that in the telling required an extra large frying pan).
The book is, as with anything written by that young whippersnapper, a jolly good read and worthy of owning.
