Congratulations and Jubilations

Mark got a mobile record player for his fifth birthday. It was made of red and white plastic and it played singles, the centre of the record had to be punched out and fitted over a spindle. He was also given one record, an early Cliff Richard number called ‘Congratulations’. The novelty of such an apparatus meant the record was played incessantly all around the neighbourhood and it also gave me an idea.
Someone had told me that fish were attracted to music, and as a budding angler, I was drawn to anything that would make fishing easier.  My grandfather had a trout pond packed with the most beautiful specimens.  They had been experimentally relocated, from small acidic lakes in the West of Ireland where nutrition was poor, to five-star food and accommodation in south County Dublin. They were enormous, and when my Grandfather wasn’t around, defied my best attempts to catch them.
But now! I had a secret weapon! On our next visit to my grandfather’s home Mill House with my mother I told John the gardener my theory on attracting fish. He thought it was a great plan and let me go with him to feed the fish.  He used a garden trowel to shovel minced liver into the pond.  The trout shot up from the dark depths, snapped at the gourmet meal and disappeared back into the black. Cliff Richard was at full volume and offered his best salutations to each fish as they darted up and down.

I had earlier snaffled my father’s landing net in anticipation of luring a trout with Cliff’s warblings. John managed to scoop a fish into the net and handed it over to me. It was a beauty and I proudly paraded it to my mother who was gathering vegetables in the garden. She nearly fainted when I turned up with the gasping trout and told me that my grandfather would probably kill me if he caught me poaching his babies. I was instructed to put the fish back in the pond. By now it was stone dead and floated listlessly away.

John told me that everything eventually makes its way to the centre of the pond and he would take the boat out later to search for the corpse. I sat on the edge of the water, tears streaming down my face, with Cliff singing at the top of his voice in a final, unsuccessful attempt to lure the trout back.