Hum Drum

 I shouldn’t really be writing a post as Wolfy over at ‘Flowing Waters’ has really put the cat amongst the pigeons, so to speak. With his glowing references to my humble blog if I attempt to write or comment on the mundane I now feel that I’m short changing him, curse his praise. But unfortunately it has just been one of those spells off work when nothing exiting happened, I racked my small brain for any vestige of interesting happenings but nope nothing, not a sausage. But here’s my dilemma, apparently, according to some bleedin’ expert upon writing blogs that I read whilst trying to start up this bloggy thingy ma jiggy way back last year, you must keep regular postings to keep people interested. Well that’s all well and good if you lead an exciting life, fraught with many a danger, with one eye on the sky looking for the eagles and the other casting around your desert wellies scouring for scorpions, but I live in Buckley, North Wales and believe it or not sometimes life can be er, mmm, I, that’s it 'run of the mill'. So my fine adventurers prepare you and steal yer imagination for a tale filled with hum drum and bursting with tedium.

After the other weeks’ wanderings it has been time to spend a little time at home with Clare. I’ve painted the kitchen (just love earning those brownie points), tidied the tools up in the garage and even did some gardening in preparation for spring planting of some container based crops. Well I did warn you; tedium, but these things sometimes do have to take precedence to getting ‘out there’. Then my feet started to itch for just a small wander, “fancy checking mum and dad’s caravan out, after this harsh winter?” I ventured, “We could take your new metal detector” (this year’s birthday present for my beloved wife). Two hours later and the fun cruiser is making all haste to the caravan situated at Llyn Brenig loaded up with me, Clare and you know who. Within the hour we’re pulling up to the gates of the site to be welcomed by Mr. Williams, site owner, hill farmer, sometimes fly fisherman and all times good guy whose was busy repairing a collapsed gate post. We stopped and exchanged a warm welcome with Will (Mr. Williams that is) then going on to explain his future plans for the site. As he’s talking I remembered that last year him mentioning that the flow that runs through the site from Llyn Brenig to the river Alwyn contain fish including small wild trout, perch and snigs (eels to you southern types) so I chanced my arm and asked the question, and now, after being a tad cheeky, I have the right to fish this short stretch of flowing water, but being as I’m yet to learn fly fishing the only baits that Will’s allowing me are natural such as earth worm, slug etc. it’ll take me back to my younger years when these were the only baits, alongside bread, that I used when freshwater fishing (see. I’ve always been ‘careful’ with me money), so hopefully there will some fine tales to tell from this area over the coming months.

We checked that the caravan was a ok, and then took a walk down my new piece of fishing turf, Clare with her metal detector and me with my bog monster (me thinks that I’ve been short changed again). The piece of water looks very inviting with several loops in its path and a few good holding areas; unfortunately the only aquatic beastie that they held this time was black, slobbering and considerably smelly. Temperature around here proved to be a good 4 degrees C cooler than back home and there was still some ice in the margins of the river so I’m thinking that, using the baits stipulated, it’ll be a good month before natural fodder will encourage a take.

After the walk along the river we headed upwards through the fairy tale like woods of the Clocaenog Forest, fairy tale in that Were wolf and blooded fangs behind you in the dark type of woods that is. We were skirting the edge of the forest last year under a nearly full moon and breathless night, scared noooo, just those slightly terrified feelings harking back to my primitive ancestors kept nagging at me to don’t look behind, keep to path and head for the fire. Even Lucy was more than glad to curl up in the van that night. Mind you, the sound of owls that night was awe inspiring. But under the warming Spring sun, yep that’s right- Spring, the forest was benevolent and very relaxing for all three of us (plenty of ooze for Lucy).

We headed home via Conwy to pick up fish n chips (again), along the back roads we saw cock pheasants displaying and a pair of buzzards circling in their courtship swirls. With my good self feeling somewhat smug with the prospect of fishing this stretch and also very content having had a grand day with Clare, since being on this new (now newish) shift rota time with her is becoming rarer and so more precious.

And the last day before the dreaded return to work?, well just spent in my holy workshop, the garage. I’ve taken delivery of a Seagull 1.5hp short shaft outboard for my now renowned favorite fee, dug out a couple of sea reels to be stripped, lubed and relined ready for a trip next week (hopefully), and spent several hours gently stripping varnish off the little lady as at the end of the month (pay day) I’ll be going against the core of my very nature and spending some money on the necessary bits n bobs required to commence the repair work. So yes a week of hum drum indeed, but isn’t life truly grand when hum drum can be as fulfilling as this?

Till next time, take good care my friends.

John