Open Writing

While on a holiday in Cyprus I was looking forwards to going fishing. I bought a new rod in the nearby town. My daughter Lesley took me down to the beach. We chose what we thought was the best and safest place. One of the locals told us he had fished in that area all his life. He indicated a place at the end of rocks which jutted some 20 yards into the sea.

There was no way I was going out to the end of those rocks, placing myself in unnecessary jeopardy.

The man also told me that the only bait that he and others used was bread. I thanked him for his help before choosing a safe place where I could bask in the sun after casting my bait into the calm sea.

I settled down to wait patiently for a fish to bite. Actually I wasn't too bothered whether or not they did. I was enjoying the warmth and the peaceful atmosphere. Every so often I checked the line, in case a fish had sneaked up and taken the bread.

I sat in that rocky volcanic cove for almost two hours, gazing out at the clear blue-green sea, watching an occasional distant ship pass across the horizon. Lesley waved, checking that I was OK, and I waved back.

Occasionally a fish nibbled the bait, but was intelligent enough not to scoff the offering. I pulled my hat down over my eyes, feeling as though I never wanted to leave this tranquil place.

After a long while the local who had offered advice returned to see how I was doing. He asked me how many hooks i had on my line. When I explained I had just the one, he smiled.

At that very moment I felt a sharp tug on the line. A fish had swallowed the bait. Casually I reeled in my catch. Okay, it wasn't something that would have won a prize in a fishing competition. However, I took a couple of pictures of it. A look of astonishment came over the local man's face when I gently put the fish back in the sea and watched it swim away.

The local told me that he uses at least six hooks on his line. He fished because they needed food.

Now I felt truly guilty and embarrassed as I thought that maybe the local had been hoping that I would give him the fish, so I made a mental note to give him the next fish that I caught, which turned out to be a tiddler smaller than my hand, so I threw that back in as well, and after a long period, all I was catching was small fish which I let go.

The local walked away and came back a few minutes later, ‘Hey, you wanna buy a fish?’ he asked, showing a large one that he told me he’d caught that morning. ‘I won’t say anything.’

Was he taking the Michael out of me?

*****