|
From: | Desmond Berry |
Subject: | [epsilon-doc] noise pollution left field |
Date: | Thu, 7 Sep 2006 18:54:44 -0400 |
She burst out at me:The IDEA of wasting all that
money on a thing like that!
I was the errand boy for my first six months. It
was as though theyd suddenly brought me tolife.
Of course she didnt know what he was talking about.
The fish I remember best of allare the ones I didnt catch. He had a sly, vicious way
oftalking:Ere, George! King Edward died and the papers came out with a black border
roundthe edge. Sure enough, when weasked him, we found hed a whole hank of medical
gut in hishaversack. It was no use trying forthose colossal brutes with the tackle I
had.
After dark Nobby soaked them till they were pliable
and tiedthem end to end.
After dinner the sergeant came round the barn where
we werebilleted looking for men for a fatigue.
WhenI was a kid every pond and stream had fish in
it.
Id never taken anyinterest in the business. Then
add hour tohour and calculate the fraction of your life that youve actuallyspent in
doing it. Here Ill make a confession, or rather two.
It was partly fear and exhaustion but
mainlyboredom.
And how they DARE charge ten shillings for one of
those sillylittle fishing-rods! We lay down to kip in such a fever that we didnt
eventake our boots off. But it wasntat all certain that we could bring it off.
Except when Father was getting out fresh sacks of grain it was thequietest place in
the house.
Probably you cant imagine what the sight of those
perchhad done to me.
It was athree-mile bike ride from home and took up
a whole afternoon atleast. The pool was swarming with bream, small ones, about four
to sixinches long.
As a boy I didnt give either the house or the
grounds asecond look. The brutes that I was watchingmight be a hundred years
old.
Inever stole the money out of the till or bought
the bit of salmonline or had a try for those carp.
|
[Prev in Thread] | Current Thread | [Next in Thread] |