Four years later she won the silver medal at the Garmisch Olympics 1936 and was world champion in 1937

Four years later she won the silver medal at the Garmisch Olympics (1936) and was world champion in 1937. She now lives in the United States, and still holds the record of being the youngest competitor in any Olympic sport.
Only a month older, her compatriot Megan Taylor was 11 years four months when she finished seventh in the 1932 Olympics She was world champion in 1938 and 1939, and died in 1993 – Dennis L Bird, Shoreham-by-SeaQ. In February 1932, aged 11 years three months, she was placed eighth in the Winter Olympic Games at Lake Placid. Who is the youngest person to have represented his or her country?

A.

A strong candidate must be Cecilia Colledge, the British figure skater, born in November 1920. I rummaged in my fly boxes and found a small home-made creation that I had never tried I went back to the lake, casted clean and well I retrieved the fly in slow, teasing jerks.Nothing happened I had another cast And another I fished on until it was too dark to see. But I didn’t catch anything or even see a fish.So I went home.. But by 6.30pm, the light was starting to fade and I had to leave.

I had promised to be home for one of those twee school occasions where everyone sips sherry, makes polite conversation and you think afterwards “What a waste of an evening”.I went to pack up – but something made me stop. A couple of fish splashed and I casted near them, changing flies in the vague hope that one bundle of feathers might prove more tempting than the last. I tried things that don’t look like a fly at all, but which claim to stimulate the most jaded trout into a feeding frenzy Nothing worked.It went on like that all afternoon. I had a feeling that it would be worthwhile.Around 1pm, the rain eased up and the sun put in a guest appearance It became quite warm, and my soaked clothing started to dry Suddenly, it was pleasant to fish The trouble was, nothing was taking my fly I tried imitations of flies, nymphs and tiny fish. At times like this, of course, the fish go under bridges to keep dry But there was not a bridge in sight I had to tough it out.

Furthermore, it was impossible to spot any fish rising because they were in competition with a million trout-like rises caused by the raindrops.It would have been easier to go back to the car and give up but I had come fishing and I was damn well going to fish Foolish? Absolutely But something made me stay. There’s nothing like a few hours of torrential rain to test manufacturers’ claims about a garment’s water-repelling properties Mine did not. Come September, and you really earn your fish.So there I was, floating out this fly line across a lake, hoping for a few trout but not expecting very much The weather was horrible. Hauling out fish with the in-born caution of a lemming is scarcely sport. This is also a pleasant time because all the really dumb trout have long since been caught. In the summer, the lunkers just need to swim along with their mouths open to get all the grub they want, but come the autumn, beetles, insects and baby fish have all but disappeared, so big fish have to hunt for their food.

But is it so unlikely? Let me tell you the story of what happened last week when I went trout fishing.
This time of year is often best of all for a real whopper. Though I have written a hefty piece about Furlong in the Field this month, giving further credence to his wild ramblings, I’m highly sceptical about the principle, and even more so about those who claim such empathy. My regular pike ghillie, Richard Furlong, insists he is on such familiar terms with Norfolk Broads fish that he can tell within a few minutes when their underwater canteen opens. Even a non-fisherman can see this is a pointless exercise, as trout are notoriously shy and will never speak to strangers.