Watching grass grow

We are staying in a campsite at some fishing lakes and there is a fishing ‘competition’ this morning. It’s incredibly exciting – everyone got themselves positioned around the edge of the lake, the whistle blew to mark the start of the competition and…..nothing happened. Everyone is still sitting around the edge of the lake, in the same position they started in over two hours ago. One guy did reposition his rod, whilst having a cigarette. Anything you can do with a fag in your hand can’t really be called sport.



You may be interested to know that some serious competition anglers who smoke, having put the worm or maggot on the hook, will then suck the bait, presumably avoiding the hook, to remove the taint left by their nicotined fingers. I don’t suppose they think about their ash tray spit which must be as bad. I have to say that when I fished and smoked I wasn’t seious!

I wasn’t serious either

Whew – licking the bait? That is seriously disgusting. I sometimes fish. I have never caught anything but I like sitting on a rock by the sea. I sometimes imagine myself as a sea-dwelling creature, swimming in to the shore and throwing a line with a bunch of grass tied to a hook and sinker, into a nearby field, then waiting until a sheep wandered past…

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