I AM not a person who spends much time remembering the years gone-by, yet my visit to feed the ducks with my grandson jogged the memory.

At the age of five, my father, grandfather and great grandfather all took me to Carr Mill Dam at various times to fish for the elusive 'big one.' That was in the days of the Cat's Whiskers, the helter-skelter, the little train and the entry fee of six old pennies to the area now taken up by the Waterside Hotel.

I recall fishing with my great grandad from behind the castle, this is now only a concrete base. As for catching fish, who cares? If you have to go fishing to catch fish you have lost the plot altogether.

We are in a rat race of excess and pressure that kills ridiculous amounts of people. My fishing trips act as a release valve with the peace and tranquility - at times, anyway.

Society tries its best to instill extremes in all types of competitive activities - sorry but you missed one here.

I decided to ease off with my trips to Carr Mill Dam at a time when you could go on a nice summer's day and catch 400 or 500 fish in the day. If I had not done this myself, I would have said it was impossible, yet Billingers told me of trips they made in years gone-by when sacks full of bream were taken back to Billinge week after week.

The aim now when I go fishing is to catch maybe just one fish that has not been damaged by the match angler who thirsts for fame and glory. I am lucky to be able to fish in some remote places where fish have never seen farm-reared maggots, but the trusty old Rathbone's thick sliced still works wonders.

Watching the carp anglers of today, I recall never catching a one in Carr Mill Dam. Forty-two years on and I had to go to a farm in Wrexham, North Wales, to a very small pond and complete my list of species caught by getting a 15Ib Common on a Saturday night as the darkness fell. Then, at first light the next day, I got a 10Ib Mirror Carp, both on bread. I did throw some pellet things in that my dad left in a bag. Boy, did that pond erupt with a frenzy of feeding fish!

Sadly, dad died last year leaving me to carry on the tradition of teaching the art to future generations.

Still, it was a beautiful day feeding the ducks. God bless all!

Eric Hattersley, Holt Avenue, Billinge.

Converted for the new archive on 14 July 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.