15/04/2026 - Some venues have improved from the past .

. Recently I was thinking of my first trip to the River Beult to Hunton in Kent, it was Monday June 16th 1947, the first day of a new coarse fishing season. Grandad collected me from school in his Ford 8 with its orange traffic indicators, that popped out on the right or left side of the car, when one needed to turn. Leaving Rochester we passed through Maidstone, Teston, Wateringbury, Nettlestead then Yalding, finally arriving at the Bull Inn at Hunton around tea time, parking on the left fifty yards further down the road on a grass verge, close to the bridge over the delightful River Beult, a tributary of the River Medway. We had come to fish the river just upstream of the bridge on the left hand bank looking upstream. towards five oak trees, Grandad said “That’s where we will fish today” pointing upstream. Opening the five bar gate, we walked through, I was then told to ”Close the gate” turning right we walked alongside a hedge leading to the river. Even today in my memory, I can see the water, with numerous patches of Water lilies their yellow flowers so bright, there were also Bulrushes, not to be confused with Reedmace, with their brown sausage shaped heads. A Victorian artiste Sir Lawrence Alma Tadema named them bulrushes when they should have been named Reedmace, often in school during nature or art class, I would correct the teacher, when he described reedmace as Bulrushes. Peering into the clear water I could see lots of small fish, I couldn’t wait to catch something. Granddad put together a rod, with a centre pin reel, then a red tipped porcupine quill with some shot on the line, finally a size 12 Masterbrand forged hook to nylon, I still have that hook.

I was then given instruction on how to plumb the depth of water, explaining why it was important. I baited with a small worm, catching five small perch on that first visit, the memory still lives with me as if it was yesterday. A few days later I caught a bream about 2lbs on my spring balance, I was soon to learn the River Beult was a good venue for bream. March 14th1951 the last day of the season, I found the River Beult was bank high, in one place it was backing up into a side stream, creating an area of slower water, I thought “That’s where the fish will be” I float fished with a big lobworm on a size 6 hook to nylon, catching several nice perch around the pound mark, I then hooked a heavy fish, after playing this fish for some time, I was able to ease the fish towards the surface. As I spotted the fish I said to myself “That’s a bloody big bream” Having got the fish in the landing net. then taking out the hook, I placed the fish in my keepnet. As fast as my legs would carry me I headed off to the Bull Inn where the club scales were kept. Bursting through the door I asked the landlord for the scales. He said “What have you caught, “A big bream” I said, he then had his wife take over, then with the scales we headed back to my swim,

lifting out my keepnet he said “You have had a good day, that is a big bream” It weighed 5lb 2 ounces, after filling in the detail in the club book, he told me “That will win the Specimen cup” and so it did. The biggest bream I know of was over 9lbs caught by a lady member of the Barking Kingfishers on the LAA water further downstream during a winter coach trip. Today the five bar gate leading into the field is still in place, though the cattle have been replaced by horses; the oaks are looking older, hedgerows taller and thicker, the riverside fields are an oasis of wildlife. In fact, they are greatly improved now being designated a triple SSI; there are more birds, mammals, dragon and damsel flies than in my young days. It’s truly amazing the amount of wildlife we anglers who sit quietly beside the river see during our day. Kingfishers are not a rarity, they can be expected to be seen zipping up and down the river, sometimes perching on a rod poking out from the reeds. In the evening I will often see a Barn Owl quartering the riverside fields, if I’m very lucky, I will see a Hobby in the summer months.

Its grace, speed and agility is amazing. It can take a swallow on the wing, but it also takes dragonflies. Overhead Spitfires and Hurricane’s could often be seen. The Hurricane is the overlooked hero of the Battle of Britain Hunton has never disappointed me over the past 70 plus years. Yes, the Bull Inn is now a house, in the 1950’s, “The Bull Inn was the place to visit on a Saturday evening with the bar billiards, a jukebox and lots of attractive girls! The red phone box has gone, along with the small village shop, the surrounding countryside has changed dramatically from the days of hop fields, cherries, strawberries, apples pears, black and red currents, ripening corn and barley. In September East-Enders in their thousands escaped their poverty to go hop-picking, living in huts, some huts can still be seen, e.g. near Hunton bridge. I don’t know what today’s children would think about living in such a small and basic hut for a few weeks, as those boys and girls from the East End did in the 40’s and 50’s. There were times when I was in the jungles of Colombia, Peru, Brazil, Ecuador or Venezuela, when my mind would drift back to my time spent in the peaceful Hunton countryside. Back in the late 40’s and early 50’s many of my summer and autumn weekends, along with school holidays, were spent camping on the banks of the River Beult at Hunton.

My friends and I made many friends with the locals, both young and old. Some days we would help a local farmer for a few hours, then return to our fishing during the evening, we often fished into the early hours of the next morning. I built up a good relationship with a local farm foreman who realised we could be trusted, so allowed us to hunt rabbits and Wood Pigeon, which we turned into a rabbit or pigeon stew in a Dutch oven. The meal was easy to prepare, so when we returned to our campsite, we had a hot meal waiting for us. We had some good shooting over a wide area, never once did we target a game bird. Sometimes we would spend two or three days doing jobs for the farm foreman, getting paid about 5 shillings 25p, but a small fortune then to us lads. A Quote by Mario Puzo: “What is past is past. Never go back”. That’s not true of Hunton, the village hall is as nice as ever, actually its greatly improved, from what I read in the Hunton Herald these days. Hunton Court with its magnificent trees and parkland still looks as it did in the 1950’s, the villagers are as friendly and helpful, I hardly see any litter on the roads. On my last visit I spotted two boys picking up the odd item of litter. The villagers must be congratulated on the way they look after their houses and gardens. There is no unsightly large housing complex or multi-story block of flats blighting this delightful village. Long may it continue.

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