The Call.

The call came a month ago. A friend needed a hand for a day, fishing locally for crustaceans. One of the crew was unavailable, and allthough I retired some years ago from fishing, I thought one day out wouldn`t be so bad, and the thought of a few crabs or a platefull of prawns was the clincher.
So we set off singing, around 3 am, sailing down the Cleddau, and out into the sea around the Western coast of Wales , the weather was cold, and whilst we were but four or fives miles from the shore, the wind was strong enough to throw the boat around a little.

The day passed without accident, and we showed ourselves a few baskets of brown crab, an odd few velvet crabs and prawns, and a handfull of lobsters.
Trouble was, fishing , as all fishermen know is a habit that is hard to relinquish.
So, a few days later, I went fishing again, and then it was back upon me, the fresh wind cutting to the bones, the salt swelling the cuts and grazes that infect the hands, and once again, fish for tea, fish for supper, and fish for market.

I`d given it all up, a few years ago, and decided to earn a crust on land, "doing up" small old houses, and any odd jobs that came along, but thanks to the profligate bankers and politicians, the price of houses is dropping fast, unlike the price of fish, which remains stable.

I have to say, it`s great to be back in touch with the sea, without exception, the tide floods, then ebbs, then floods again. The ocean currents always run in the same direction, and the migration patterns of birds and fish never falter.

Unlike politicians.

Strange too, being away from the television and internet, catching just glimpses , and small items of news.
The goon show continues, as the olympic torch passed across the globe, surrounded by uniformed "employees of state."
Goons in track suits, goons on bicycles, in helicopters, on motorcycles, in jeeps and cars, with pistols and rifles, machine guns and billy-clubs.
Showing us all that through sport, peace and harmony will prevail, with instant death for any dissenters.

More than anything the last few weeks have been like a holiday of sorts, meeting up with old acquantances, re-visiting the sea and it`s haunts, a cruel mistress she is .
But I musn`t grumble, `cos no bastard will listen.



More to come, tide falling, time ebbing.