A childhood memoir of life before polio, and immediately after, and my magical childhood adventures in and out of a wheelchair
Fishermen and The Tope
Every now and then there used to be a fishing competition. Men would come from all over England to take part. A small armada of every type of boat, from a dingy to those organised fishing troops that the local fishermen would take out for the day, took part.
The weigh in was held about 5 o'clock in the afternoon, according to the tides. The scales were held in place by a huge tripod and every man's catch was carefully weighed. This always took place at Neptune Jetty. The fish caught were plaice, dabs, sea bass, eels, conger eels, skate, cod, ling and TOPE. Now tope were small sharks and we boys were always warned to stay away from them. They were fearsome looking creatures; sleek they may have been, but not to the touch. Their skin was so rough that you could strike a match on it. And the hooks protruding from their mouths were enormous and shiny. Connected to the hook were pieces of wire. Did they catch these monsters with pieces of wire? Surely not, but the wire was there, make no mistake.
Now if we started to mess around with the hook inside the Tope's mouth, or if we even touched the wire, we were warned off. ''Their teeth are like razors,'' warned Jess Mount. ''And they'll bite yer hand off,'' joined in Pop Pressley (who had an encounter with a tope that severely bit his arm, partially disabling him). ''But they're dead, aren’t they, Pop?'' ''They're only pretendin' to be dead,'' warned Pop, ''you leave 'em alone, Bosgo!''
Now to me they were dead. Nobody could fool me. And when their backs were turned, old Pop and Jess, I tried to detach a hook from the tope's gaping maw.
As I did Pop Pressley turned round. I withdrew my hand fast from the tope's mouth. I barely stroked the tope's teeth with my hand and blood came instantly from a deep gash. The other kids scarpered. Pop and Jess were horrified. They took me over the road, my hand dripping blood, to my parents' restaurant. My mother took me to the Doctor's where I was given an injection of something-or-other and my wound was cleaned and bound and I had a go at blowing on Dr Quentin Evan's watch. I had to blow really hard in order for the pocket watch lid to fly open. Magic!
In future I kept my distance from the tope. I knew that even if they were dead they could still give you a serious bite!
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