The Friday feeling just isn’t there. No crunchy day. All you ‘Auld Wans’ will remember the reference. No poets day (one for the chippies out there)
Around 4pm (past morning) the girl child found me in my workshop tidying my seat box from yesterday. Apparently she had made me pancakes. This I soon discovered was a blatant lie. She presented me with a plate with a quadrant of a stack, syrup drizzled round the outside edges but wiped off the centre of the plate. What she really meant was she had cooked for herself and couldn’t manage to woof the last quarter down. By giving me her leftovers she would no longer be responsible for the plate, not that it usually bothers her. It would just join everything she had used in preparation in the sink. The other Spawn of Satan are alive, I can hear the shouting at the X Box and the thump of DeathMetal. Soon one of them will venture downstairs in search of snacks
I joined the throng at slab-time in Tescos, the time when everyone goes in for their Friday night trays of lager. Always chaos and it just amazes me how simple instructions cannot be followed by such a large proportion of the populous. After a stealth mission to find the ingredients for the family dinner I worked my way to the last isle, Alcohol. Same old faces again, pretending to read the labels on the wine bottle but honestly getting no further than the proof percentage. 13.5% being the benchmark for Tramp Fuel. Most bang for your buck.
Everyone is drinking more and this for me includes tea, can’t believe I have drunk fourteen cups today. How life has gotten insular?
The lockdown has given us time, time we never had before. A time to reflect and a time to grow. Never before after a session have I checked traces, washed them off in fresh water and then hung them out to dry. To examine each component looking for faults. Replacing the hooklength, drying the swivels and hooks and store them away for further use.
I re-spooled the blown reel and looked at the box again to see what weight could be further shed. the priest has now gone along with the tripod. I am only going to carry three reels, two to use and a spare. There is nothing else I can leave behind.
Saturday and Sunday look set to be too windy to get out, Monday is Bank Holiday and probably not a good day to push the Staying local thing as attitudes to the lockdown seem to be relaxing. I am sure many families will be exercising on beaches through out South Wales and police will be issuing tickets to those away from home.
Tuesday it is then and a local mark that I have never fished before.
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