fishydreams

At home we have a bunch of dogs, a cat, a terrapin and heaps of fish. And we used to have a rabbit until the thing died earlier this year. These are pretty cool pets but they won´t raise many eyebrows. If you really want to make an impression you need something a little more unusual. How about a pig?

George Clooney had, or maybe still has, a Vietnamese pot bellied pig. And this became something of a trend with all those Hollywood types. He has just got married (Clooney, not the pig) and I don´t know what his new missus has to say about having a pig in the living room. I guess time will tell. View full article »

I don´t know anything much about cars. Most of the ones we have bought over the years were cheap and second hand and there were some real stinkers among them. This is probably no more than we deserve. When we are on the garage forecourt sizing up a prospective new purchase our examination is pretty cursory. I count the wheels. If there are four I am encouraged. Then there ought to be a steering wheel somewhere. If there is, and it is roughly circular in shape, and positioned in front of the driver´s seat this will pretty much seal the deal as far as I´m concerned. That is, of course, provided the car is pretty cheap. It is usually only some time later that we discover our shiny new car turns out to be a creaking crock of shit. View full article »

Back in Ireland my fishing buddies Sean and Mark have recently sneaked off for a fishing adventure. It sounds like they had a real blast. I wish I could have joined them. I include Sean´s report and Mark´s photos to give you an idea of what the two boys got up to:

“Back from our adventure in the west and a damn fine adventure it was too, I tells ya. Carra was not in a generous mood and showed almost complete disinterest in our efforts before finally she yielded – in a last minute, petulant ‘oh alright have a bloody fish then’ sort of way. Friday was like the Bahamas and we struggled the whole day long with barely a sign of a fish. Saturday the weather turned out perfect – a good southerly warm wind, good waves and grey skies – couldn’t be better in theory. We caught a small fish early on and then spent another 9 hours flogging the water with nothing whatsoever to show for it. The only bit of a reprieve was the Kelly kettle and some pot noodles on one of the islands. Somewhat re-invigorated we plotted our tactics, set up new teams and set forth once again upon the waters…to be met with further indifference. We had sacrificed the All-Ireland hurling  final replay for this shite and great was our whingeing and cursing of fate. Eventually we gave up all hope of catching anything but just kept going – largely because we didn’t have the wit to call it a day. As we entered the final hour of light and our two lines were out quite close together, to our complete astonishment, a good fish burst of the water, broadside, out of nowhere right between our two teams of flies. Neither of us knew whose fly it had gone for, we both struck until, and as luck would have it for me, she had happened to have attached herself to one of mine. After a good scrap we netted a beautiful 3lb Carra fish –  stunning beasts that they are. Cue scenes of amazement, shock, joy, flabbergastificaciousness etc etc. It’s nice to get a bit of luck for once when it seems there ain’t none to be had.

A splendid night followed in Ballinrobe in a grand, lively pub, lowering pints with a bonus All Blacks-Argentina match on the telly. Blissful.

Next day we fished Moher Lake near Westport – the one where Leo acted as human anchor that time. Weather was perfect – warm, light breeze (easy for rowing) and the fish were in the mood (a mixture of wild and stocked brownies). We caught nearly twenty up to 2lbs – four or five big lads. All on wets with the Claret Bumble and Kate McClaren probably the overall winners but they were interested in most things. Tried the dry Daddy at the end but they had begun to switch off at that stage – which was decent of them as we had to leave at that point anyway. Most entertaining days fishing I’ve had in a long time.

And the above was interspersed with all you can eat breakfasts for €5 and sundry other entertainments. A most excellent adventure.

THE END.

We’ll send on a few piccies in due course that Mark took with his fuzzy phone camera.”

Every now and then a little thing happens, quite out of the blue, that reminds you of how interesting the people of Andalucía can be. They have a kind of joie de vivre and spontaneity which many of the rest of us may lack. Or maybe they just suffer less from the stifling self-consciousness that prevent those hailing from northern Europe from letting their hair down a little. Something happened just a little while ago which shows the free spirit of these people and I thought it would be nice, while it is fresh in my mind, to record it. View full article »

A little while ago Harry Abbott and I made a little deal. Harry suggested he would trade a float tube for a couple of watercolour paintings and that was cool with me. I happen to be the owner of a float tube already but having an extra one would mean that I could go off fishing with a mate, rather than on my own, which can be nice. Harry and I have fished together like this many times and we have always enjoyed ourselves.

The deal, as first suggested, was to barter the tube for a couple of paintings, one of a trout and the other of a gypsy barbel. But things didn´t pan out exactly that way. As I was showing Harry a few paintings from which to choose his favourite trout, Harry´s eye became fixed on a painting of a black bass. View full article »

One of the disadvantages of living in the middle of nowhere is that the mail never seems to get to you. We live in the campo in a place called Piegallina which is only a little off the beaten track but, as far as the Spanish post service is concerned, we might just as well live on one of the moons of Jupiter. If people are misguided enough to send post to our home address, and this sometimes happens for official documents of various kinds, there is a chance the mail might show up in the post office in Cártama which is about six kilometres down the road. And that´s if you´re lucky. View full article »