How To Go
Fishing
by Carol Townsend
I am not much
of a one for outdoor hobbies, but have
occasionally been fishing with Himself, when I
sit on the riverbank reading, and drinking tea. I
never go out on a lake with him however, as he is
unwilling to row back to the bank so I can answer
a call of nature (Men have their own solutions
for this particular problem) For anyone who
has never tried fishing, this is what happens:
Having planned
your expedition, you have to get your equipment
ready the day before as it takes so long, and
someone always forgets something, such as the
bait. Next day you get up at an obscenely early
hour, load up the car, and realising there's no
room for the passengers, you have to hire a taxi.
When you
eventually reach your destination ( having
had to go back for the bait ) you then have to
find a good place or "swim" as I
believe it's called. This is where the non -fishing
folk, like me, need inordinate patience as this
is a process which can take many hours while the
fisherman walk up and down, down and up, trying
to choose between various identical spots and
then setting up shed-loads of equipment.
At last everyone
is finally settled, and the serious business
of staring blankly at the water begins, with the
non –fishermen being told to keep quiet or
else, and not to say "poor little thing"
if by chance someone should catch anything. If
you do catch a fish you weigh it, make a note of
the weight so you can boast to your friends,
photograph it, put it back, and try and
catch another one, or the same one if
it's stupid enough.....
I had a little
moment of triumph once when Himself asked me to
keep an eye on his rod while he kept an
appointment behind a bush. I spotted movement as
soon as he had disappeared, so did what I'd seen
him do a hundred times and yanked the rod upwards
as hard as I could. He couldn't believe it.
"You've
caught something! How did you know what to do?"
"I just
copied what I've seen you do."
"But I've
been fishing for years, and you’ve never
tried it before!"
It was a two
pound carp, maybe not record-breaking, but I
was quite pleased with myself.
Himself has
never quite got over that day, and will never
again make me believe that fishing takes years of
practise…..
So the day
progresses to the point where it's too dark to
see, and with great reluctance you decide to go
home. That takes a fair while too, as the taxi
has to be hired again (no- one thought to do it
in advance) and all the packing up has to be done.
The remainder
of the evening is spent discussing the day's
events ad nauseum, and everyone retires to bed, exhausted
by all that staring.
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