I first met Steve in the Basford British Legion in1972 where we were introduced to each other by a work colleague of his. He was twenty-four and I was thirty three. Having been a River Trent match angler for many years that night Steve converted me to fly fishing in less than ten minutes. He had brought along some fly tying gear and adeptly demonstrated the tying of a Black and Peacock Spider. I was fascinated. After that meeting we became friends and for the next few years we toured a few resevoirs together learning as we went. We fished Tittesworth on the dry fly with some success, Draycote anchored using lead lines to locate the big browns, Eye brook where most were fishing floating lines to our Wet C 2. Pitsford were we used mixed methods and our then favourite Grafham. Steve and I were particularly interested in what Dick Shrive and his mate were up to so we kept a keen eye on their activities. In those days lee boards could be used and we employed a board on every occasion when visiting Grafham. Lee boards allowed the boat to travel across the wind and in so doing offered the fly to more fish as they travelled up wind. Lee boards were banned in 1977 as dangerous and I for one supported the move. During this period Steve and I suffered for our art. I remember on several occasions at Grafham rowing back to our drift mark(we couldn't afford a motor boat then) with waves crashing against the boat and spray going over the top of our heads. We may as well have been in the Atlantic. One day, on an earlyseason visit to Pitsford, we had been bank fishing for around an hour when it started to both snow and blow. In fact we were caught in a blzzard with the snow being blown parallel to the ground.We could do little more than lie on the ground with our backs to everything until it blew its-self out an hour or so later. When the blizzard had started I had cast out a black foam bodied floating lure on a wet-cel 2 and left it. When I got myself upright again and reeled- in up came a small headed three pounds two ounces rainbow. You can immagine what Steve had to say about that! Another memory I have is of a blazing hot day at Eyebrook when it seemed no one on the water was catching a thing. We had decided that the trout must be down so tackled up with Wet-cels, put on either Black or White lures and rowed out to where we thought the deepest part was and started catching. There was no limit in those days. We ended the day with twenty-two pristine trout to the boat. In the lodge afterwards other anglers looked agast at our success. As time passed other anglers came into Steves life. One young chap in particular, I recall, absolutely idolised Steve. Every time I went over to Steves for a chat the fellow was there hanging on to every word that Steve spoke. Now, I knew how caustic Steve could be although in all the time I knew him he and I never crossed swords. Yes, we had some manly banter, but it was always lighthearted. On this particular day, as Steve recalled to me, he and his young convert were stuck out in a flat calm. Steve was fed up as even the ocasional pull on the oars, which took them some hundred yards or so, hadn't produced. Apparently, the young disciple kept asking ' what shall I do know Steve? ' In the end an exasperated Steve replied ' throw your f.....g self in.' We never saw the fellow again! As the seventies were coming to an end, redundancy was staring me in the face. Steve had asked me to become his regular Saturday boat partner but on financial grounds alone I had to decline. Out of desperation I planned to start my own textiles business which I did and ran it for the next twenty-six years. After the seventies I never fished with Steve again. He had other fishing partners. The nice Jim Clemments, who I spoke to only a few days ago, and Steve teamed up and spent many great days together over a long period. Although I joined Cromford Flyfishers for around ten years I could never get Steve to join me for a day out on the Derwent. 'What do you want with catching those little bloody things for,' he would say. One day I phoned him, some years ago, to ask him for some particular fly dressing material when in passing he told me that he had suffered a heart attack. Got to take it easy now Tone he told me. As the years passed I occasionally dropped in to see him at his 'manufactury' to show him some of my archaeological finds from days out with my detector. He was quite impressed and told me that he had always had a liking for history. The last time I saw Steve was over two years ago when he told me he was going to stand to be a councillor. ' Thirty-five grand a year' he said, looking for my reaction. I told him it was great. I don't think Steve ever made a great deal of money out of the supply business so I guess he saw it as a 'nice little earner.' However, it did cross my mind at the time that he may be taking on a little more than he could cope with. I now look back on our early frendship and fishing experiences with nothing but pleasure. Steve gave fishing his all. Just as he gave golf his all when he was youngster. He played for Notts county youth team and got his handicap down at one stage to three. I used to rib him about his superior education when compared to mine which he didn't like but defended it by saying that he came from humble stock having had a grandfather who was a miner. Although he had been educated at Nottingham boys high school and gained two degrees at university he never talked 'posh' or lost touch with his working class roots. When I received a copy of his book he wrote in the inside page ' To Tony Knight, from his old fishing mate, with very best wishes, Steve Parton, June 1983.' It was only ten days ago that I learnt of Steves passing. A great shock at the time. Well, a belated goodbye old pal. Maybe, one day, we will all meet up again-who knows? Tony Knight, sometime fisherman.