Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it – George Santayana.
Late September 1918 an American city relaxed it’s ‘Lockdown‘ from Spanish Flue to hold a parade to boost the war effort. 200000 people were said to have lined the streets waving and cheering the troops. Within days the hospitals were full and over 4500 souls were taken in Philadelphia alone (must be true I read it on facebook)
Donald look to your past before destroying the future, and do something with that hair, it’s not becoming.
April 16th and the reported English deaths attributed to Covid-19 for the day were 861 still rising then? and yet we are getting blasé with out unnecessary journeys and laugh in the face of social distancing because WE wont be affected.
Lockdown for at least another three weeks, hounds should still be in, rigs built and a summer of fishing to look forward to.
I was awoken, unjustly and without good reason earlier than I wished to be by fat lazy rain. The kind that just splashes on the Velux in my bedroom. No hammering down, no intention of soaking things just a free fall of lazy splashes. Far earlier than someone on furlough needs to be awake but not too early to greet the morning sun or to be serenaded by the dawn chorus.
I didn’t get up.
The Universe may wake me but on this day I chose to rebel, to take my morning pills and make the starman shape in my rapidly cooling bed. To close my eyes once more and let sleep take me back to her lair.
But it never did, once I am awake that’s it, herself calls me Bagpuss, because once bagpuss is awake all his friends come awake.
I made some tea, after a safe interval for the thyroxine to be absorbed, then made herself a packed lunch to take to work. I wandered round the garden for a while and observed the numbers of nest boxes I have lovingly constructed and mounted in thoughtful, strategic positions around the shrubbery. The only bird building at the moment is a blackbird in an old leylandii, ungrateful bastards.
The sky outside is wet and grey and so begins another weary day (Barson 1981)
Shore Tope….
You didn’t think I would go too long without another photo of another tope?
I got the fish juggling act right for this one on the self timer and managed to find some net which had been washed up on the beach to weigh it. After this session started carrying an unhooking matt/ weighing sling combination which I had from my pike angling days. Coarse fishing has much greater restrictions and control on fish welfare due to most if not all waters being owned or controlled by someone (often profiting from the fish or allowing anglers to catch them) On the waters I fished for pike an unhooking mat and disgorgers were as mandatory as a rod license.
I have a feeling I will need a large, long handled landing net for the rockmarks I now intend to target. I made a few general inquiries but the tope fishing deities of South West Wales seem not to want their numbers to swell, especially on the good marks.
I will find them.
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