Article - Coarse
All This Madness - The Diary of a Lake
By Mike, added on 24/07/2008
I’m sure I could see a tear emerging from the Captain’s eye. I wasn’t close enough to tell though. I was hanging around nearby, but staying at arms length from the aggressive abuse which was being launched at the Captain. After yet another day of abuse, maybe he was finally getting tired of it.
There is a stout black man, who works for the new London Overground. His job is to help lost tourists, baffled by the complexity of the Underground & to man the barriers, preventing the ticket dodgers. I see him most days when I’m working over in London, & I call him the Captain. You see these signs 'action will be taken against people who are abusive to staff' etc etc but I never used to give those signs much thought until I started to spend more time in the Capital. Some days, I am both saddened & staggered by just how short tempered, rude & fiercely abusive some people can be, towards someone just trying to do their job.
The Captain is a good man. I know, I know because I have seen it often. Sometimes I feel like shaking him by the shoulders & reminding him of that fact. We don’t do it of course, we just walk by, too concerned with ourselves. I wouldn’t ask him the question ‘do you think you are a good man?’ because after all the abuse he has received over the years in his post, he may start to question himself & perhaps doubt himself. Maybe I’ll make the effort & stop tonight, if he’s there. After another day of abuse, he’ll still smile though & shout ‘good evening sir’. Perhaps I’ll ask him if he goes fishing. Maybe he takes a son fishing. He could be a granddad & be introducing a grandson to a much more pleasant world. I should shouldn’t I?
Anyway, its time for home. Through the gateway to the second realm, the bucket & spade airport of Stansted. Some young kid in a suit, Ryan Air tie, gelled hair, out to impress, got something to say, actually thinks that people over forty actually listen; is telling me to hurry up & sit down because I am delaying the flight & we could miss our slot. Next the captain comes on the PA ‘……in ten minutes or so we should be on our way’. I guess he to, will discover the phrase ‘long in the tooth’ when he reaches his forties.
At La Morinais, everything is as tranquil as ever. Put another way, ‘nothing ever happens here’ which is the usual view of a city dweller. For me, everything happens here & is always constantly changing. That was why it was such a pleasure to see one of our guests thoroughly enjoying the art of angling, in all its worth. Yes, it’s nice to see people land their personal bests but it’s equally fulfilling to see an angler taking obviously pleasure from catching a beautiful three pound tench, when there are forty pounders swimming about. I must add however, I did think Colin was going to latch into a carp on this same evening. Good wind at dusk on a warm day, float fishing close in, end of the right hand tree ‘Colin, I reckon its going to go’. Sadly, I never got to see his immaculate Cardinal 66 take the strain of a large carp. Colin had to head north early the next morning.
One thing I did notice about Colin, is that he seems to be one of those anglers who sort of ‘blend’ in with the background. I have some guests here who like to stomp around & have a very bold presence about the place, which is absolutely fine of course. But then there are others who almost disappear. When I’m going about my business & daily chores around the grounds, I will look up & be thinking ‘where the devil are they’. Dark matt clothes, slight movements, staying tight to the shrubs & trees, trying not to pop up above the vegetation, moving about like they were not really here. Very often, these are the more successful anglers here – the carp are not rig shy, but they are certainly angler shy. In fact one guest once said
‘it was as if everywhere we went, the carp went somewhere else’. Perhaps had he listened to what he had said, he may well have latched into a few more.
‘I see you got your mates here with you again Mike’. One of my regular guests joked earlier in the year. Paul comes in May, when the Rennet Vert
are at their most vocal. The Green Rennet frogs are small, green, yellow rings around their eyes & to the locals – very edible. I don’t know what happened to stimulate the frog fest, but the day after Colin left, the frogs went a little crazy. They congregate in numbers up at the Lily pool during March & April, but it was now midsummer. Hundreds of Rennets were congregated in the top half of the pool & it looked like more than the spring ‘yupee lets make wild passionate love to anything resembling a female frog & get so excited we sometimes drown them in the process fest’, I sneaked up on them & snapped the photograph. I will ask Roger, my local reptile expert, but anyone any ideas? Glastonbury is a long way from La Morinais.
Those of you who have read the classic ‘The Fishing Box’ will have been fascinated by the chapter entitled ‘The Frogman’. The story describes a travelling man who used to catch & sell frogs. He supposedly caught the frogs by using a length of wood, a line & a small piece of red cloth tied on the end. He then enticed the frogs into such a frenzy, that they leapt & clung on to the piece of red cloth. The Frogman swung in the frogs & dropped them into his awaiting bucket by the dozen. Well, I told my neighbour Alfred about the midsummer-frog-fest & he immediately got a little excited. Alfred is an old man now, but when he was younger, he described how during one such evening, he collected 10kgs of frogs. I asked him how did he catch 10kgs of frogs in just a few hours. He answered me as if I was a little stupid “Mais Mikael, c’est facile. Utilser une canne a peche, ligne, avec une petit piece de saffron rouge”. Well bugger me, so the red cloth thing was not a story after all. I will report back when I have tried it myself however, be sure it will be when no one is looking.
Today though was Alfred’s birthday & after several whiskies & plenty of school boy hilarity, I came tottering back down the track for lunch. But the damage was already done; too much whiskey on an empty stomach & the rest of the day I’m wasted. Work on the house is suspended, in no fit state to be up ladders.
The next day; Sunday, Roger & his insect & reptile buff colleagues were doing a kind of presentation day for their friends & family. I felt quite proud of ourselves for receiving an invite. It was well organised, clearly a great deal of time & effort had been spent in entertaining us. The morning was spent on insects, spiders in particular. My two children were enchanted to learn about the habitats of different lizards & spiders, which lived under our noses, most of which we were completely unaware, we just didn’t know the signs. After lunch, the snake man gave a presentation. I was enjoying the presentation, doing my best to keep up with the French language, learning about the two different groupings of snakes, their habitat, markings, eyes, mating, pregnancy times, birthing, prey & diet & growth. Then the presenter flashed up a photograph of Mister Nasty – Viperus Berus. I flinched & muttered under my breath ‘oh sh1t’. Sorry, but that’s what I did say.
Last spring, some of my angling guests told me about a day time visitor, who had ventured into one of their bivvies, then curled up & looked like he quite liked the place & fancied a little nap. The snake was encouraged to leave, aided by the gentle prodding from a stick, all filmed in glorious Technicolor on camcorder. I was given a copy of the footage but so far had failed to identify the snake. I had been looking in the wrong place, but now I knew – Viperus Berus, mister nasty, gender male. So now, amongst the information for visitors upon arrival, is ‘Information about Snakes’. What I have not done yet, but must do, is visit my local pharmacy to find out the nearest place I can get access to anti-venom. Some fisheries futher south I have since learned, where mister nasty is more common, keep anti-venom on site.
Well, we have a music festival coming up, more anglers next week; meaning more strimming & mowing beforehand, then the Tour de France is passing through – the reason I’m sure, why we have just had the road resurfaced. Then family coming, more anglers, a Celtic music festival – all this & the associated hospitality, while I am trying to build our house. I know it will be all worth it one day, & I know that day is drawing closer. Will I just stop & do nothing then? – Never, I enjoy all of the above & more far too much!