49. The Early Worm Catches The Fish.

One of the things that I like about myself is that I know what I like. Soccer for example. What I don’t like about myself is what I don’t like! OK that sentence was a little weird. What I meant was that its important to know what you don’t like. It’s easy to know what you like, but knowing what you don’t like can be tough. After all, how can you tell what you don’t like unless you try what you don’t like in the first place.  For example, fish. I can’t stand fish. I don’t like the taste or the texture.

There are exceptions to every rule of course. I can eat a fish stick, but as we all know there’s no real fish in a fish stick. For my English readers, that would be a fish finger. And for my American readers I don’t know why they are called fish fingers, I know fish don’t have fingers.

Me with my first fishing rod!

Saying that let’s get to the meat of this subject. Growing up, as those of you who are regular readers will know, I craved those Father/Son moments. So spending time with my Father down by the lake watching him sit there for hours in peace and quiet.  Back then I would get bored and run up and down the lake shore upsetting the other fishermen until my Father took me home. Or I would spend the day flicking maggots in to the water.  Then one birthday I got a fishing rod! I seem to remember being excited about it at the time. This was my chance to be like my Father.  But not for another five months, as my birthday is in December and fishing in England doesn’t start till May-ish.  While I think about it I just want to say something to my Michigan readers. When I say the word “lake” this would be an English lake, not a Michigan lake. In England what we call a lake, Michigan people would call a puddle.

Look at the size of those keepers.

So when spring came around, I was awoken from a sound sleep in the middle of the night to go fishing. Strike one: for some reason you have to get up early to go fishing.  Apparently getting up early means you get the best spot to fish. So I never understood that halfway through a morning of fishing we would move from the best spot to another spot further down the lake?



By the lake.

Fishing of course is a dangerous sport. Getting all the way to the lake and finding you have forgotten your thermos flask for example. OK I kid, fishing is dangerous and I have a scar to prove it. I really don’t know how it happened all I remember about the incident is the trauma. My Father and I were fishing at a local river, for my Michigan readers that would be stream! And somehow I managed to get a hook caught in the skin on the joint of my index finger of my right hand. Being the tough young lad that I was, I bawled like a school girl. My Fathers only choice was to pull the hook out. He said he would count to three and free me from the barbed terror I’d gotten entwined with. One, Two….he didn’t get to three. He yanked the hook out ripping the skin wide open. Strike Two:  fishing hurts.

fish, they move!

One of the main problems that comes with fishing is the fish. They don’t seem to want to play. They never seemed to want to be caught by me. No matter what type of bait I would use I never seemed to catch much. And if I did catch a fish it would be a perch. I have a suspicion that if there was a fish full of tench I could still catch a perch. On the odd occasion I did manage to catch a fish there came a major problem. I couldn’t get them off the hook. Strike Three: fish a squirmy. I hated touching fish, I still hate touching fish! Even the dead goldfish I have to scoop out of my kids bowl,I am the official picker upper of dead things. So I guess it is no surprise that after my Father died I never went fishing again. It’s just not for me.

The North Sea! Honest it's a sea

Just because I want to add this photo, lets pretend I went sea fishing once. OK I can’t lie at all I never went sea fishing. I mean look at this picture. Ignore the skinny young me in the shot, look at the water. ITS BROWN! I’m surprised my parents let me swim in that crap, and I’m more surprised anyone would ever eaten anything out of the North Sea. I’ve often said if Jesus walked on water he did it at the yucky polluted North Sea.

I guess when you get down to the basics of this entry..  I DON’T LIKE FISH!

Published by David

Guide, Traveller, Mentor, Writer, Depression Free!

5 thoughts on “49. The Early Worm Catches The Fish.

  1. If memory serves me right, my dad took us fishing exactly one time. It was down south in a dry county so it was at a lake where it was safe for him and my uncle to have a few beers. Needless to say, we were on our own when it came to learning how to bait the hook, cast safely, and remove our own fish. However, it did become a fond childhood memory. Thanks for helping me remember it by reading this great post! Good work Dave!

  2. I remember your dad taking us both fishing.that was the reason I got my first rod,it came from Woolworths £2.50if I remember correctly . I think your dad gave me an old fishing reel . I think you spent a lot of time fishing at water beach and hated every moment there because all you caught was perch, that was the first thing I thought of as I started to read this blog.

    1. Yeah Steve, we fished at Waterbeach, West Stow, Rushbrooke, and all I got was bloody perch!
      Its bad that one of my boldest memories of that time is spending my fishing trip trying to ballance maggots on my fishing rod and seeing how long it was before they fell off!

  3. Ah, fishing. It’s a part of the father and son thing we must all go through. Well, for me, older brother/younger brother. I still enjoy fishing because I simply enjoy the relaxation. I’m not a golfer or a drinker so when I want to get away I go sit on a muddy bank and cast a line. It’s not about what you catch but, more often than not, it’s about what you don’t. Great post!

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