Stealth and camouflage are important especially when fishing small rivers like the Ogmore and Ewenny. Only another eccentric angler would understand if I was seen hiding behind trees and creeping through the undergrowth like a modern day Hiawatha when stalking a difficult fish. From a camouflage point of view, I must confess that I’d really like to own one of those tweed suits as worn by those smart Scottish gillies but at present I don’t have the funds and anyway to be dressed in one of those would look a bit “O.T.T.” on our rivers.

I do like to wear a cap when I go fishing, not your baseball types and certainly not back to front. In the rain these just feel like a cold poultice if like me you’re a bit thin on top. No, the type I like is the flat cap style, as worn by Fred Dibnah.

Genuine Barbour jackets add a touch of class, they certainly keep out the wet and come in nice country colours but they don’t stand up to barbed wire and we have quite a bit of this about nowadays. My friend tried an imitation Barbour from Pyle Sunday market, not only did it let in the rain but fell to pieces after just one season and it had no street cred’ whatsoever.

Now what a bloke wears when fishing, is nothing to do with me so I’m not going to push for the aristocratic look on the Ogmore and Ewenny. Anyway most of our club members would feel uneasy if they saw someone dressed too smartly on our waters. They would look guilty and in view of all the “ rollickings” that have been metered out, would start to wonder if they’ve got their permit and licence displayed properly as anyone dressed in an elegant way is almost certain to be either a committee member or a bailiff.

Let me tell you what happened to me one day when I was fishing the upstream dry fly in the Fir Tree pool. Someone shouted “OY!” And called my name. I turned to see a face from ten years ago beckoning me out of the water. I scrambled up the bank and had a nice chat with my old friend who’d moved back to the area. ‘How did you know it was me?’ I said. ‘Spotted you from the bridge, I’d know that old jacket anywhere’ he said.

Now here’s where I display my natural talent for fishing style, an old army jacket as worn by “W.W.1.” Generals on the Western Front. What I hadn’t realised was that I’d had it for 25 years and it was already destined for the Imperial War Museum when it was given to me by my grandfather who’d fought on the Somme. Based on the theory “If you’ve got it flaunt it”, I used to feel like the “Cat’s whiskers” when wearing this jacket and to be recognised by it, was to me a compliment.

However, the following event started me thinking. After a very enjoyable club outing to a local still water, we all congregated in the pub. As usual, awards were made for the largest fish etc. and I was fortunate enough to win the pool money. Confusion set in when other club members started to keep their distance, at the time I put this down to jealousy, I was even more confused when, on joining them at the table several moved away and as they were going one flash guy mumbled something about a terrible smell. I fully appreciate that you can become accustomed to smells but I genuinely didn’t think that my jacket was the source.

Things became a bit clearer when the committee member who presented me with the twenty-two quid pool money said in a loud voice, ‘I reckon you can now afford a decent jacket’. Everybody laughed and although I’m not the type to let this kind of thing bother me I decided to give the old jacket a good inspection.

O.K. it smelt a bit fishy, fishing jackets are supposed to aren’t they? And I know that the cuffs were frayed but even in the area of the bullet holes it still kept out the rain. The bell pockets were large enough to hold a big handful of lobworms, my sandwiches and a pork pie in one side and in the other side I could store my tackle requirements a hip flask and still have room for a couple of one pound trout. Something I have learned though, if you keep your hip flask in the same pocket as freshly caught trout, the whisky will always taste fishy no matter how much you wipe the neck of the flask. Also because of the colour of the jacket, the fish slime didn’t show around the bottom where I kept wiping my hands. I still considered it to be smart because whenever I wore it I always got what I thought, were admiring looks.

Anyway after thinking it all through I decided that the old jacket had to go. My wife said that she was too ashamed to put it out for the ‘bin man so using a long stick and doing her best to control a heaving stomach, she got it from the garden shed where I used to keep it and cremated it at the bottom of the garden. Now after reading about the sterling service given to me by this jacket most of you will be so impressed that you’ll want to go out and buy one. Don’t bother! I’ve been trying to find another one for months. I’ve been to all the local army surplus stores and even tramped the back streets of Swansea, Swindon and Hereford. ‘You’ll never get one,’ they said. I was offered a more modern style from the last world war but it was a different shade of khaki and to be honest it didn’t have the quality of my Great War version.

The manager at Shepherds Army and Navy store in Hereford told me that he’d not had one for five years and that he’d been left with no choice but to go N.A.T.O. Well I had to do something so had a good look through all the old stock.

I must admit to being most impressed with a Royal Navy Chief Petty Officer but it was dark blue and I felt that all that gold braid would look a bit pompous on our waters. There was the Japanese Admiral and the Squadron Leader but for one reason or the other none of these were quite right for me. So for the moment, I’ve gone for Civil Defence.

Of course friends no longer recognise me on the rivers but I don’t mind as I’m making lots of new friends. New club members and visitors seem to like me; they must do because they always stop for a chat.

Funny thing though, they never ask if I’ve caught anything. They keep asking my advice on things like chemical warfare, radiation levels and about the construction of nuclear bunkers.

“Peter Ross”