My little black trailer

I remember as a young boy (I was roughly 12, I think), loading up my little black trailer with my seat box, match style rod bag and keepnet bag before attaching it to the back of my Raleigh BMX bike. My daddy had made me this little trailer especially for the purpose of me being able to get to the grand union canal or the little River Ouzel that runs through my Bedfordshire hometown.
It was made from a proper angle iron frame that supported the main body, which was made from plywood, before being sprayed black. Then from what I can recall, a bar came out and up before being attached underneath my saddle somewhere and was somehow able to swivel (for obvious reasons) allowing me to deviate left and right.

This little trailer meant that during weekends, school holidays and days that I decided to 'bunk' off, I could still get to destination water for a days fishing.
I think the 'old man' decided to make it for me so that I didn't pester him all the time for a lift there and back at every given opportunity. I was mad for a bit of angling even in those days ( I'm talking roughly, 30 years ago ).
I remember dad calling me to the garage and slowly opening the door before exposing it, and saying " now make sure you look after the bloody thing" . He then proceeded to read me the highway code complete with tips on towing a trailer!!
"Remember, your twice as long now, so give corners, roundabouts and old ladies a wider berth than normal,
and make sure your loads strapped down good n proper".
I can recall a certain day that I decided to cycle to a place that we call orchard mill this was roughly five miles or so from my house and consisted of negotiating a series of hills. Before getting to the road part of the journey I first had a couple of miles of canal towpath to travel, and on doing this I picked up a puncture. The tyre managed to stay up for the five miles there but I did not realise until setting off on my return journey. Luckily dad had equipped me with a pump, so every ten minutes or so I had to keep stopping to blow in more air to see me home. I used to know roughly how long it would take me to do certain journeys so I'd keep having that "one last cast" and leave it right to the death before packing up and setting off, but on this day I had not allowed for the every ten minute blowing time and returned home into dark and received a bit of a bollocking from the parents (oops).

I can't remember what happened to my little black trailer, but what I do know is, without it I'd have been "knackered for bunking off for a days angling" .
I'll see if I can dig out a picture.