Fishing – the art of sitting still…
If you know me you’d be forgiven for thinking fishing isn’t exactly a past-time that would suit me…but oddly it does. I suppose as a kid it appeared on my radar due to the fact my father and a few other men in the little village we lived fished. So having received a starter rod and reel for Christmas and after much pestering from my brother and I, my father eventually agreed to take us. Okay…my first taste of fishing completely underwhelmed me – what a let down. To my mind the sneaky little buggers were far to hard to catch and I’d imagined it to be far easier and far more entertaining.
To be honest I was only ever entertained as a kid when day dreaming about flesh eating plants, or dungeons full of goblins and dragons. So fishing never really stood much of a chance. This was compounded by the fact when someone, in this case my father, does 90% of the task in hand you fail to appreciate or enjoy its finer points. Really that translates to most things. Simply put, if you do it yourself you enjoy what you’re done all the more.
I’m not entirely sure how long it was after the half dozen failed trips with my father before I dabbled in fishing again, but I’d guess it was a couple of years. However, this time I followed my brother. I suppose the failed trips were as much my fault for being the child equivalent of an unhinged springer spaniel, tongue lolling out the side of my mouth as I sped from one thing to the next, as it was my fathers. He wasn’t a good teacher and ADHD wasn’t even considered back then. Despite that I grew to enjoy fishing and having to do it for myself made my efforts all the more valuable. I suppose in some way it reinforced the idea that there is no point doing something unless you put effort into it. Actually, I say enjoy fishing but as a kid I loved it. The peacefulness and tranquillity really struck a chord with me and for once I could sit still and watch the morning unfold. To behold an early rising carp as it silently ascended out of the gloomy amber water like a wide eyed ghost, coupled with the mist as it crept across the surface was memorising.
I decided to take Luke fishing to see how he cope…how we’d cope. Catherine and myself are worried Luke is on the ADD/ADHD spectrum and while that isn’t an unsurmountable problem, we don’t want it to get in the way of his schooling. The other day wasn’t the first time Luke has been fishing but the last time was about a year and a half ago so I assumed most of what he’d picked up would have been pushed out by Minecraft or something or other. He did remember little bits and started brightly. However, after snagging the trees several times and almost getting thrown in to the pond Luke had a time out. After the time out had given him the chance to concentrate on the job at hand he was awesome. His casting improved massively and before long he looked every inch a pro. Out of all the six fish he caught he did everything himself: he baited up his hooks, untangled his snags and removed the hook from each of his fish.
Even when I hooked a 6 or 7lb carp Luke didn’t hesitate wanting to lend a hand. Under instruction Luke plunged the landing the into the water and tried scooping up the exhausted fish. For a moment things looked good and I imagined Luke smiling from ear to ear as he lifted the fish from the net. But no, that didn’t happen. To make matters worse on the cramped little fishing stint a small dog appeared at our feet seemingly interested in the commotion. In his urgency Luke swooped, bludgeoned the carp, tangle the tackle and snapped the line… Glory was gone in one final flick of its broad tail. Did I care? Not one bit. We were having fun and that’s all that matters.
Luke won the fish off 6 gudgeon to 3 gudgeon and 2 roach. We’ll not mention the carp.
What-proof-rich-tea Biscuits, WTF!!
Right, I feel the need to warn you as this part of the post might wander a little…
About a year or so ago I was unlucky enough to pick up salmonella while out with friends. As if the subsequent 8 hours of projectile vomiting, five days of feeling awful and time spent on the toilet wasn’t enough, I managed to knock out a crown when I accidently head-butted the tap. Not my best moment. The after effects of this bout of food poisoning came in the guise of a new intolerance to gluten. Mother fu…. I love bread and pasta…not to mention dunking biscuits!
My sister in law told me Lorcan, my brother in law, had picked up a stomach bug that left him with similar symptoms to mine, but after a visit to the doctors and a subsequent antibiotic course, he made a full recovery. So, off to the doctors, yeah? No, I’m not one for visiting the doctors often – even when I should. Instead my wife, who is a nurse, came home from work where a colleague of hers is currently doing an assignment on food allergies and mentioned a supplement designed to help the gut recover from infections and other such nasty stuff. So I’ve been taking one of those tablets every day. It turns out while my intolerance has lessened; I’m still not able to eat white bread. I am, however, able to eat biscuits it seems!!
While testing out to see if I could manage a biscuit (or twelve) I reached for the packet of rich tea in the cupboard gathering dust. Who’d have thought The Belmont Biscuit company not only make their product using ‘No artificial colours, flavourings or preservatives’ but that also make the buggers from water proof flour!! I mean come on. You just can’t dunk one of those. Dunking is all in the wrist. You submerge a tester for a few seconds and when you see tea being draw up from the cup, you know it’s done. Theses biscuits refuse to act accordingly. As a result you’re left with either a cup of sludge or a still crunchy morsel! Unacceptable!