| Product: |
Most Embarrassing Moments |
| Date: |
21/07/06 (261 review reads) |
| Rating: |
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Advantages: none
Disadvantages: where do I start?
It was one of those beautiful spring days that makes you feel glad to be alive. The sun was warm, and a gentle breeze whispered off the surface of the water, carrying with it the scent of ozone, the smell of the sea.
I was content, glad to be alive as I watched the small boats bob like corks on their moorings in the middle of the river, abandoned for the moment, devoid of crew for a few more weeks before the river would once again have to share it's peace and tranquility with orange-suited weekend sailors.
I am not an anti-social person, nor could I be described by any stretch of the imagination as "a loner". I like people, I enjoy interacting with my fellow man, but at that moment I was enjoying being alone, my only "companion", a slightly battered old fishing-rod that had been given to me as a child by my late father.
The uninitiated who say that "golf is a good way to spoil a walk" have been heard to comment that fishing is like "watching paint dry", and to the casual spectator who cannot see the attraction of "drowning worms", the prospect of watching a rod-tip for hours must seem daunting and completely pointless... because it is pointless.
The whole nature of hobbies is their pointlessness. They are an escape from the hum-drum 'must do' necessities of our existence. I don't NEED to fish, I WANT TO, and.. coming to the whole point of this sorry tale..I want to be left alone when I do so.
I knew.. the moment I laid eyes on him..I knew.
He must have been at least six and a half feet in height, with hands like dinner plates..he was a giant, and everything about him, from the white flat cap to the garish yellow windcheater jacket said "LOUD", and my brain, without any conscious effort groaned,"Shit!".
This is the guy you spend a week's holiday avoiding, the cretin who isn't happy unless your 'joining in', whether you want to join in or not. This is the plonker who can clear a crowded room in 20 seconds, but has the hide of a rhinoceros and can't be insulted.. and he was carrying fishing gear.
"Caught anything then?" For a moment I wanted to say "Yes, a great white shark, but it jumped back in when it saw you", but I feebly muttered something about it "being quiet", and awaited the inevitable.."That's because you're in the wrong place".
No..HE was in the wrong place, and as he began to impart his particular brand of wisdom, my mind wandered and I began to consider the advantages of spontaneous combustion.
An hour later he must have decided that "too much of a good thing etc", because he suddenly announced "Right then, I'm off", and leaving me with a parting "You won't catch anything there you know", lumbered off into the...
He couldn't have been more than 150 yards away, but I contented myself with the knowledge that at least he couldn't talk to me, and I settled back into the job in hand.
"What you should do..." I couldn't believe it, he must have crept up on me when my guard was down.
This was the pattern for the next two or so hours. He'd talk, attacking me with a machine-gun of home-spun wisdom and boring anecdotes, then he'd return for 20 minutes..then he'd come back..then he'd...
He'd returned to his rod, and I was about to surrender. I'd doggedly refused to allow myself to be evicted, but realised that this was a battle that was lost before it started, when a quiet, gentle voice came from behind, "Have you had any luck?".
I turned, startled by the sudden intrusion, and found myself gazing into the most beautiful pair of limpid china-blue eyes that I had ever seen, "Er..no, I'm afraid not".
She smiled, "Never mind, there's always another day isn't there?".
I was in love. She was beautiful..and my whole crappy afternoon began to melt into oblivion.
As we chatted, I threw the occasional glance in the direction of my tormentor, but he had his back to us, and had managed to collar another victim, and was in the process of reeling him in like some large unsuspecting fish.
We chatted for a good half hour, joking about fishermen, and making general smalltalk, "How's HE doing?", she pointed to the big man.
"Oh him" I grinned, confiding in her, "He's one big boring bastard".
She smiled again, giving me the strangest look, "Actually, he's my husband".
I'm taking up hang-gliding, nobody can annoy you up there.
Summary: Be careful who you're talking to
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