bob and plip! 29th November 2016

I… can’t…. quite…….. prise…… these…….. words… off… the…. frozen…… earth……. in the days I used to go fishing… you could call it angling…… or more accurately, sitting…. and staring…. lashings of staring…… and thinking, sometimes, but not always……. thought ofttimes morphed into unthought….. you see, when you perch (see the pun I did there?) yourself on a cold damp riverbank half hidden by plants of varying ilk……. oh no! here come the ilks!… run!.. run fast!….. don’t look back or… or… or…. they’ll get you!…. you’ll be ilk-food before you can say…. ilk!.…….. you see I wasn’t particularly good at it, a friend introduced me too it and soon I had all the gear… rod, reel, line, hooks, keep-net, catch-net, hessian bag with lots of pockets for all the necessaries, including lunch of course… and brunch.. and afternoon snack…. and the not to be forgotten flask…. oh yes, and sometimes breakfast…… and a folding seat, the most essential part of the kit…… oops, almost forgot the fishing brolly, this being the north and all you never could be sure what the weather would do…… donned in wellies (as in wellington boots) and thermals and waterproofs off I trotted many-a-morn’ into the whatever was to come……. found a spot and staked a claim on the riverbank and….. sat…… just in case you’re thinking, no I didn’t forget the bait, wiggly worms or maggots the usual fayre… and I sat watching the float floating on the waters surface…… and waited……. and waited….. and waited for that ‘bobbing‘.. then plip! as it’s yanked under the surface by a hooked river monster… or usually in my case, a stickleback….. I caught a lot of sticklebacks…. and eels…… and did a lot of sitting… and staring……

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