Cane and pin in secret swims, and unfashionable quarry. It's like being a child again, but with accrued knowledge, perhaps the best of both worlds.
Nettles have stung my forearms, they glow now like the tip of the stick as it sails on it's merry way. Then, slowly, down to the depths and I strike...the beautiful dace, flickering, glimmering.
I could sit here on every balmy summers night, no-one will disturb the tranquility.
Solitude, cane, pin and dace...it's nice isn't it ? I forget all that's humdrum and tedious...that's dace for you, they do that...and another comes to hand.
I'm quite content. Just listening to the birds, adrift in a sea of green, with flashes of dace.
For this evening, at least, they're all mine. Far far away from the chasers of chunks and ego. I'll just stay here a while and catch...dace.
Of course the time does roll by, I only meant to stay an hour or so, but I forgot you see? I lost myself , not really wanting to be not catching dace.
But as soon as you drop your guard. The suprise chub, he's often there lurking, decides he's a bit jealous of dace and tries to take centre stage.
Time to go home, I think. Back through the untrodden, away from the wonder of dace....for now.