Dreaming of mackerel

Sheep's Head Food Company

It was 1.00 in the early afternoon and I was sat on the wall on the other side of the road from Arundel’s Pub looking out over the bay. The sun was high up in a clear blue sky but there was a slight breeze to take some of the fierceness out of the heat. I had come up for a pint before cooking lunch. We had been out catching mackerel and there were twelve of them in the fridge, filleted and ready to go. I could see the smoke from a fire on the beach that had been lit in readiness for the fish. It would need another fifteen minutes or so for the flames to die before the fish needed to go on the black grill.

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The pub had been empty when I went in get my pint. It had been poured slowly and surely and I went…

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