Going to "work" with my father was always an adventure. A day out shrimping meant going to bed early the night before. I'd feel that I'd just got off to sleep when my Dad would shake my shoulder saying "Time to get up!" This was always about 2.30am. I’d put on warm clothes,  my boots, oilskin and sou'wester and we'd be off, trudging down  to Woodrope. By the time we reached the seawall 1 was awake enough to enjoy the wonder of a star-filled sky.  We'd hear the voices of other fishermen as we made our way along the wall to the "Leavings" - into the row boat and we were soon on the "Iris May" (a fishing smack). First things first down the fo'c'sle the fire would be lit and the kettle put on for tea. I'd reach up to the deck-head to find a knife to spread butter and jam on my chunk of bread, wash it down with a tin mug of hot, sweet tea made in the kettle, and when the men went up on deck I'd "turn in", listening to the anchor chain being raised as I drifted off to sleep. We were usually at the fishing grounds by the time I woke with the sun rising above the horizon.
I enjoyed shrimping. There was always so much going on, from the time the first haul was brought aboard. The shrimps were shot on the deck and then sieved, the smaller ones going through the sieve and back into the sea. Sometimes ther'd be a special treat like a lobster among the catch, and always some fish plaice, whiting, dabs, and occassionally roker (skate). There would be seaweed and there would be small fish too small to take home for supper or to sell. That was my job to sort out the small fish and throw them back into the sea. I got many a bite when doing this.
In the meantime the copper in the hold would be boiling. The shrimps were shot in and by the time the water came back to the boil they were cooked. Scooped out of the copper with a "dingle" (or ladle)  the shrimps were put on trays to cool. The skies above were full of black-headed gulls by this time, as the men, waiting for the next haul, would be gutting the fish and providing a feast for them.
Once the shrimps were cool they were measured in gallons and put into peds (baskets) ready for market. Sometimes the catch would be taken into Brightlingsea and at other times we'd bring it into Tollesbury it depended on the tides. At weekends throughout the summer we children would have the job of going round the village with baskets of shrimps to sell for 6d a pint.

Fay's Footnote!
Shrimping was at best an easy almost enjoyable occupation, excepting the 2am starts and going out in all weathers to catch your daily quota. At worst it was backbreaking, heartbreaking, tedious, frustrating and un-rewarding. Throughout much of the summer the men would be away from home for weeks at a time. I was a "fair weather" shrimper and away for a day only.