Could it be that this Christmas is one for reflection rather than OTT commercialism, a spiritual occasion rather than a spending one?

We have political upheaval still, rampant inflation, crippling strike action and, far worse of course, a seeming escalation of the war in the east. On top of all these reasons to be cheerful with huge restraint came the heartbreaking news of the children's death in a frozen Midlands lake, a tragedy that made me weep.

I’ve fallen in a few times, like all anglers, but most notably after Christmas 1963 when I followed my father’s lump hammer through the ice  into a pond I was trying to fish. The rope caught round my ankle and I followed a stone of iron into four feet of water. I’ve tried to make light of it over the years, saying my father’s upset was merely the loss of his tools, but it was a ghastly experience that has never left me. My empathy is as great as my sympathy for those poor families who will be forever scarred. I just hope that all public lakes and rivers are not drained as a result and children lose even more of the liberties those of us over 40 or so, took for granted.

The World Cup is over too and, rather like Christmases, they become a reminder of the years passing as you age. When we won in ‘66, I calculated I should live to see another 15 finals or so and inevitably witness a successor to Bobby Moore lift the trophy. Ha! I’ve given up on that one, but Christmas remains a little more predictable in its power to please.

I’ve always loved them, and always somehow associated the best ones with angling highs. For example, all the 1970 Christmas periods I remember as a parade of clonking Wensum roach, so huge that each one seemed like the best present ever. But it is the festivities of the 1980s that burn the brightest, so vividly I have trouble remembering that we are talking 40 years ago. How can that be?

Virtually every one of those Christmas weeks was spent pike fishing the Norfolk Fly Fishers’ Lake at Lyng, now the Manor Adventure complex. Yes, there were dull times and yes, we all got cold and wet. Yes, too, we mostly blanked, but when we didn’t, we struck gold. How many 30-pounders did I see in those heady years? About eight, I believe, and a couple of fish I saw in the water must have topped 40 by some margin. Stuff of dreams, but it was the company that make my memories rich. The privilege to fish with several of the true, legendary Norfolk pike heroes was one I appreciated then but ever more so now with age, as the Decembers tick by like the miles on your car.

Bill Giles was only one of the Broadland pike slayers of the 60s I got to know, but he was so generous, so kind he made Santa look hard-hearted. He’d while away the day reading Proust (in the original) and then reel in his trout dead-bait as dark fell and take it home to cook for his supper. Reg Sandys, Jim Knights, Jack Fitt, Michael Robbins and, dare I say, Dan Leary, all made Christmas fishing extraordinary with their humour, their pike knowledge and their reminisces of what the Thurne and its broads were really like in the heyday of pike fishing history.

I was just in my 30s then and the rule was that any pike caught had to be removed to neighbouring lakes, something I found abhorrent. I always volunteered to save the 'old boys' a walk and I’d take any big one myself, keep it in a sack and smuggle it back into the main lake for release when night fell. Fine until one of us caught a 25lb pike very obviously the same fish Reg Sandys had landed two days earlier. Jack Fitt, the fishery manager, gave me a look that made me quail. “Seems there are underground caverns linking these pits, boys,” he said, leaving it at that but for a quick clip round the ear later.

So, lucky, lucky me. I have seen us win the World Cup. I’ve seen 40lb pike. I’ve met some of the greatest anglers who have ever cast a line. Anything more will be icing on the cake and I for one give thanks that another Christmas of love, togetherness and generosity is here again. It’s a time for prayers this year not presents and it might be all the better for that...