Coping

So how has little ol’ Murphyfish managed to pass the time whilst awaiting the outcome of Old String Vest’s operation, has he hidden away in a darkened room in a dark silence casting his thoughts to the outmost reaches of the cosmos trying to fathom out the whys and ifs of life and it’s sometimes incredible feelings of unjustness and unfairness? Well not exactly, after all not matter how I view the ups and downs of this roller coaster called life there’s not a lot I can do to change the broad picture of it all, yes I do my damndest to protect and care for all that are close to me, I work hard to provide everything that I can, and I always try to stand up for what I believe is right come hell or high water. But other than this life will be what it’ll be, long after my bones are ashes on the ocean. So yes I did try to get on with it, though my father’s plight was never than a heart beat from my thoughts.



So the first part of getting on with it, after the four shifts at the hell hole, consisting of planning ahead with… potatoes. Now I do believe that in previous postings that I’ve mention the vastness of available garden space that I have, with not enough room to swing a cat (a Manx cat at that) being the term used. But I’m determined to at least get some produce this year from the backyard besides the little (well not so little) presents that the bog monster leaves for me to clear up. So after a little head scratching and some expenditure (don’t faint) I’ve purchased and started off some potato bins, two now and two more to be planted in three weeks time. Along with these I’m preparing to convert two builders’ rubble buckets for the purpose of growing runner beans on canes forming a tee pee, laced with sweet peas to bring in more pollinating bees. I’m also hoping to plant up some collapsible planters with a small variety of onions, cabbage and such. I’m also still trying me damndest to convince Clare the merciful to allow me to convert the dog run (which Lucy’s used er oh yes she hasn’t) for the introduction of two or three bantam hens. So from small acorns hopefully…..

On the day of Pop’s operation my head really wasn’t on this planet, so I invoked that great cure all and went sea fishing. I had to steal the bottom end rigs and new reel line from my every forgiving friend Rob, buy some mackerel for bait on the way and headed off into the blue yonder extremely under prepared and not really caring where I went. I ended up at Traeth Bychan on Ynys Môn, the scene of happy childhood memories, perhaps that’s why I was drawn there but to be honest I don’t remember the journey. I set up on the flat rocks, on the northern side of the bay fishing from these directly onto sand. By some curious fate I’d arrived perfectly an hour and a half before full tide, perfect for the predators and scavengers to follow in to the rocks, the wind was fresh, the sky overcast to match my thoughts and there was moisture in the air but without it actually turning to rain. The hours passed in a slight haze, thoughts of happy times spent on these very rocks balancing out the longing to hear news of my father. In all the time that I was there, routinely changing bait, watching the rhyme of the rod bending to the wind and the waves, staring after the oystercatchers skimming the surface and letting the call of the gulls high above sooth me I did feel at peace, in a fashion. And what did the great fisherman wrestle from the ocean’s depths, well to be honest absolutely nothing, although I did have one incredible take which for a few seconds set my pulse a racing as I felt the full contact of something large under the glistening water’s surface, stripping yards of line off my reel. But then it was gone, no line snap, bait more or less intact when finally retrieved so I guess the hook couldn’t have set and the critter had just mouthed the bait ball. Some may say that I should perhaps have been there awaiting the call but we all handle life differently, perhaps I should, but I went fishing and this is how I coped that day. So then it was off home to face the news, fortunately the news was good.

And the days after? Well in-between sorting stuff out, making sure mother was fine and visiting, spending time on the boat project, I walked, and then I walked some more. As I’ve said before the outdoors sooths me, pushes the clouds far enough away to make life bearable, it’s where I truly belong. I won’t say too much about the walks, you all know by now who was at my side (well when she wasn’t in the ditch) so I’ll leave you with some pictures taken from the trig mentioned last week, oh alright then one of Lucy, just one mind……

Your friend,


John