Uncle Bob wasn't really an uncle.
Born and bred in Barnard Castle, he was working as a cartman when he met and married my great aunt - Jane Lendrem. When he died my brother and I inherited his fishing tackle. He'd fished the Tees at Barnard Castle all his life. He had two beautiful split-cane rods. I recall opening his tackle bag. Lifting out a leather wallet with flies attached to their casts. The reek of the pipe tobacco he smoked. And opening tins of St Bruno stuffed with more flies.
When his first wife died, my father bolted to Barnard Castle where Uncle Bob took him under his wing. He tried to teach my father to fish. He didn't succeed.
I have fond memories of Uncle Bob.
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