Waiting for the mackerel to come

He looked out over the Bay and let it wash over him. It was the first day the sun had been out since a day back in November and all the days of wind, rain and disturbance seemed to dissolve behind him in the rush of light that came in off the water. He took it all in, breathing slowly.

He put his hand in his pocket and his fingers played with the loose change the coins rolling over each other. There was some expectation there, money to spend and things to do. He could start to put behind him some of the day to day mire and think about days in the sun.

There was a voice beside him ‘Feck it’s not the sun that you need but an hour catching fish and then some time listening to feck all being said in the pub.’

‘On a day like today you need to gather things and put them behind you and take your position out there on the water and wait for the fish to come in.’

‘Feck. It is the second week of March now and getting so it is light in the morning and there is time enough in the evening to see what you are doing.’

‘There are mackerel now that’ll be making there way through the water but they won’t be hungary for the hook just yet but give them another week or so and they’ll have a bite at you and that’ll take some weight off you shoulders.’

‘And while we wait for those weeks to pass I’ll buy you a pint and we can talk about mackerel and the waters they swim in.’


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