It was threading ragworms onto hooks under the tutelage of my father that put me off fishing, for a while at least. Ragworms are hideous creatures with an understandable tendency to bite, but nothing, I thought, deserves so cruel a fate.
On the subsequent, and slightly terrifying, expedition to the middle of the Solent, I beat triumphantly my father by two whiting to nil, but all was ruined when my mother refused to cook them despite my heartfelt pleas.
No concerns of bait and boat, however, attend the catching of mackerel from the beach. The lure is insensible and the beach does not rock dangerously from side to side. On the right day, you can catch eight mackerel on a line and any cooking facilities, no longer under the authority…
