An Honourable Pastime.

Fishing is a most honourable pastime. Especially when it involves young persons with the inevitable enthusiasm and eternally optimistic attitude that they are going to catch a whale, followed by how they are going to fit it in my Honda CRV. Which has to be one of the most hilarious conversations it has been my privilege to hear.

As a fisherman of many a long year I am world renowned for having never produced a fish that was of an edible size, or of any size at all that anyone else can relate to. The answer to this is actually quite simple and it is because I have refined the art of fishing to a no nonsense no mess occupation that more people should adopt.

I often fish where one may deploy the trusty fold out chair, to provide a modicum of comfort whilst one stares idly at their fishing rod waiting for it to move, an indication that perhaps a fish is attached. My fishing rod rarely if ever moves at all. But then it is a nice day and that doesn’t actually motivate me to be leaping up and down every 3 minutes to check rod and reel for a non existent fish. Nor to retrieve the line and discard spent bait, and re-bait and cast it upon the waters yet again, and again, and again.

It is common knowledge to my family that I am considered to be the worst fisherman in the world. It is common to be made the butt of all fishing jokes much to the hilarity of all and sundry. But do you think that I could give a toss. No! for you see the joke is actually on all the participants in the hilarity and ridicule to which I am occasionally subjected to.

You see, I have all the gear, very handy for fixing a young boys needs for fishing when his breaks or is in need of replacement. This means that young boys are in awe of this extraordinary fisherman and all the bit and bobs he has lurking in his bag, which in turn leads to many interesting conversation with the interested parties on what each piece is good for. Plus much pleading to be allowed to try such things for themselves. And thus an important role is fulfilled and they are learning an art that just might be useful for survival at some point in the future.

Thus when i take myself off for a days fishing to a favourite rock, beach, jetty or wharf I take my assembled paraphernalia in my bag with rod (already with sinker attached) in hand and depart. Little does anyone know that where the space in my bag a pack of smelly fish bait would normally reside there is but a simple six pack cooler bag with the appropriate refreshments contained within. On arrival at the designated place the foldout chair is deployed, the line with sinker attached is cast into the water. And I settle back in the foldout chair and deploy a cold can of lager. In the course of a few hours I shall have discussed, with passers by and other hopeful fisher persons, the weather, the shocking depletion of fish stocks, the 101 reasons why no one is actually catching a fish, resolutions for all of the governments woes along with hows the fishing, caught anything, had any bites. Not to mention the myriad of questions from any small children who may be passing, much to the consternation of their parents, horrified that their child should dare to try and converse wit a supposedly smelly old fart of a fisherman who is obviously doing his utmost to become immutably pickled.

Thus the hours of fishing drift away, and by the time I have very slowly consumed a six pack it is time to quietly partake of the thermos coffee and snacks that ones dutiful wife so ardently pressed upon me to take when leaving home. Following which it is then time to reel the line in which has nothing but a sinker attached to it, and have some other close by fisherman commiserate with me on the fact that it looks like I might have had a good one have a go at my line as it obviously has bitten straight through. Ah! says he better luck next time. Then having packed all away I quietly wend my way home. To the time honoured question come statement, “so you didn’t catch anything then? good job I went to the supermarket and got something for dinner!” smirk cackle, laugh. And so I go and clean up and put everything away until next time.

My grandsons as displayed eagerly looked at me and asked are you  going to put my fishing rod out Pop? I replied maybe, I have some beer to drink first whilst you lot catch the whale, but first you best explain to me how you are going to fit it in the car. Children have the most prolific imagination. And this ageing grandfather makes the most of this time which will all too soon disappear as they move on to loftier thoughts like girls and where can we get some beer from. They will know who to ask for beer, provided they pledge to take me fishing.

Fishing is a most honourable pastime.