Fabulous. Brigadier General Money was the man mentioned by the great Roderick Haig Brown – a former pupil at my old school, until he was expelled from it for drinking in the local Godalming (Surrey, England) public houses, probably in an attempt to meet and speak with the girls who were notably absent from the school back in his early 20th Century time there, before being “sent off to Canada” for letting so his family down (his uncle, William HB, was the Headmaster of the great school), so he must be okay, I thought myself, when I first read his classic book, A River Never Sleeps, aged 14 and at the same, still girl-free school many years later and beginning to show as a healthy an interest in the female sex of my own species as I had long had for cold, dead-eyed, fast becoming increasingly boring, old fish.
Paul, Your comments are the highlight of my day. I would love to talk to you about possibly doing a podcast episode. We have a new one coming that is unlike anything else out there, perhaps we can discuss after you hear the first episode? May 1 is the target launch.
PS – The William Haig-Brown mentioned above (who died in 1907, a year before Roderick’s birth) was the formidable Victorian gentleman who moved the already ancient school from London to its new home in Surrey in 1872.
Here is a photo of the bronze statue of the old fella standing in grounds that doubtless young Roderick walked past every day – I certainly did. So when he let the family down, it was Vancouver and BC here I come, particularly as his father had died in the Great War of 1914-18 and the wider H-B family, perhaps his neighbour of Thomas Hardy in Dorset grandfather, had had to fund his time at the school.
Canada’s (and Angling everywhere’s ) gain, England’s loss.
About the – “Paul, Your comments are the highlight of my day. I would love to talk to you about possibly doing a podcast episode. We have a new one coming that is unlike anything else out there, perhaps we can discuss after you hear the first episode? May 1 is the target launch.” – above, guys.
The last public “fishy” appearance I made, in the mid 2000s, when I gave a private talk and slideshow to a couple of dozen carefully chosen friends of a long-time fishing pal of mine, turned into a near-riot when three very loud and large camo-clad gatecrashers from the British Huntin’ Shootin’ Fishin’ We Own Everythin’ Includin’ You Set decided to take the opportunity to “have a word with that blasted, Not One of Us, Boote” for their Masters!
My still (as you can see from the international news at present) very divided and hairtrigger fractious and angry, highly opinionated and cantankerous, little home country, Britain, for you……….
So … about that podcast. Maybe. At some time in the future. With limits. I have always been a very outgoing, informative, chatty person, but one who, over the years, has learned that there was truth in that old, British, propaganda poster slogan from World War II – “Careless talk cost lives”.
The great American Angling writer and seen a lot of human lowlife in his courts in his time Judge , Robert Traver / John D. Voelcker clearly knew the score long before I did, when he wrote about “Fishing Derbies” and “kiss-and-tell Anglers” – from memory, I believe his words were “to them / all such / I give the back of my hand”.
Now, whilst I am not half as “down” on such people as John was, I have learned over the last twenty years or so that it is best for me to keep a low fishy profile and a well-buttoned, trout pout lip – catch something sexy somewhere today, see all departments combat fishing (and not merely at the river) tomorrow…..
Get your pod’ up and running, guys; I might be “up for” a contribution in due course.
[Dashed of fast – apologies for any poor spelling, bad syntax and grammar]
Fabulous. Brigadier General Money was the man mentioned by the great Roderick Haig Brown – a former pupil at my old school, until he was expelled from it for drinking in the local Godalming (Surrey, England) public houses, probably in an attempt to meet and speak with the girls who were notably absent from the school back in his early 20th Century time there, before being “sent off to Canada” for letting so his family down (his uncle, William HB, was the Headmaster of the great school), so he must be okay, I thought myself, when I first read his classic book, A River Never Sleeps, aged 14 and at the same, still girl-free school many years later and beginning to show as a healthy an interest in the female sex of my own species as I had long had for cold, dead-eyed, fast becoming increasingly boring, old fish.
Great movie. Thanks.
Paul, Your comments are the highlight of my day. I would love to talk to you about possibly doing a podcast episode. We have a new one coming that is unlike anything else out there, perhaps we can discuss after you hear the first episode? May 1 is the target launch.
PS – The William Haig-Brown mentioned above (who died in 1907, a year before Roderick’s birth) was the formidable Victorian gentleman who moved the already ancient school from London to its new home in Surrey in 1872.
Here is a photo of the bronze statue of the old fella standing in grounds that doubtless young Roderick walked past every day – I certainly did. So when he let the family down, it was Vancouver and BC here I come, particularly as his father had died in the Great War of 1914-18 and the wider H-B family, perhaps his neighbour of Thomas Hardy in Dorset grandfather, had had to fund his time at the school.
Canada’s (and Angling everywhere’s ) gain, England’s loss.
PPS – omitted the link to the pic
http://www.kingofhits.co.uk/gallery2/main.php?g2_view=core.DownloadItem&g2_itemId=866&g2_serialNumber=2
In the rebellious 1960s, when I knew it, somebody poured a can of (I think it was red) paint over the thing.
About the – “Paul, Your comments are the highlight of my day. I would love to talk to you about possibly doing a podcast episode. We have a new one coming that is unlike anything else out there, perhaps we can discuss after you hear the first episode? May 1 is the target launch.” – above, guys.
The last public “fishy” appearance I made, in the mid 2000s, when I gave a private talk and slideshow to a couple of dozen carefully chosen friends of a long-time fishing pal of mine, turned into a near-riot when three very loud and large camo-clad gatecrashers from the British Huntin’ Shootin’ Fishin’ We Own Everythin’ Includin’ You Set decided to take the opportunity to “have a word with that blasted, Not One of Us, Boote” for their Masters!
My still (as you can see from the international news at present) very divided and hairtrigger fractious and angry, highly opinionated and cantankerous, little home country, Britain, for you……….
So … about that podcast. Maybe. At some time in the future. With limits. I have always been a very outgoing, informative, chatty person, but one who, over the years, has learned that there was truth in that old, British, propaganda poster slogan from World War II – “Careless talk cost lives”.
The great American Angling writer and seen a lot of human lowlife in his courts in his time Judge , Robert Traver / John D. Voelcker clearly knew the score long before I did, when he wrote about “Fishing Derbies” and “kiss-and-tell Anglers” – from memory, I believe his words were “to them / all such / I give the back of my hand”.
Now, whilst I am not half as “down” on such people as John was, I have learned over the last twenty years or so that it is best for me to keep a low fishy profile and a well-buttoned, trout pout lip – catch something sexy somewhere today, see all departments combat fishing (and not merely at the river) tomorrow…..
Get your pod’ up and running, guys; I might be “up for” a contribution in due course.
[Dashed of fast – apologies for any poor spelling, bad syntax and grammar]