You don’t need to go to exotic places and spend thousands of pounds to reach utopia. Sometimes, just sometimes, perfection is found in unlikely places and circumstances. When everything comes together you just know.
You know that complicated as life can be, as bitter sweet as the day to day grind of normality is that life is precious, and that there are some days that are, in some way or another perfect.
I started the day in a misty car-park with Luke, and dodgy as that may sound the only cottage involved belonged to the river keeper, the only dogging was done by the spaniel who lept muddy pawed and happy from the pickup. We’d arranged to spend a couple of hours chasing pike on the river Wylye as it winds it’s way, mostly unnoticed by the sunday traffic, along the A36.
I won’t go too much into the details about the fishing here, there are times and places for that and I was never one to write technical accounts of fishing trips. Let’s just say that we threw very large flies across a hallowed chalkstream and stripped them back, downstream. Now a few will have turned in their grave (even though some of them are officially still alive, they just act like they lived 100 years ago) at this but, times change and if I’m honest, I’m getting bored of fly fishing for trout anyway. The more I do, the more I find myself targetting other species. Pike, Carp, Bass, Chubb; They’ve all given me oodles more pleasure this year than any but the hardest of trout to catch. If it’s not in an almost impossible lie, if it’s not totally wild, I can honestly say I don’t think I’m interested anymore.
Anyway, yes, the pike. Well, Luke got busted up quite quickly by some monstrous fishy that shredded the wire trace and left him questioning the existence of a piscatorially biassed deity and I only had a lunker of a trout who really should have known better to show for the morning. I’d sat and watched Luke casting from a broken down bridge, the sun was directly behind him and the water as it sprayed off his line was casting rainbows in a shield around his body. So although Luke was questioning the previously mentioned deity, I was watching him cast and thinking that someone, be it Gaia, Allah or Elvis was watching over him. In the way that only a skater or surfer will understand Luke succumbed to the pull of the ‘last cast’. Just one more run guys, honest. So the fly plopped out with a resounding ‘splossh’ and within seconds line was pulling off the reel. So you can now imagine the scene, Luke’s connected to a very large green lump who has no inclination of coming near the two legged bastards on the bank who’ve ruined her easy meal and I’m desperately trying to untangle the net. Fingers are cursed, bits are pushed and pulled but eventually the beauty is netted unhooked and splipped back. I’ve no doubt Luke is still smiling, after all, it’s not every day you catch your biggest ever fish on a fly. Good job dude.
So I dashed from there, changed out of the waders and loaded the family into the car and headed to the beach. The tide was incredibly low at Studland today, lower than I’ve ever seen it. The banks of chalk and flint, lying exposed like the broken bones of forgotten sea monsters. The smell of low tide, slightly wrong, but ever so right pervades the air and mingles with the faint waft of bacon sandwiches and the clam chowder being served in the little shack/cafe on the beach. Two hours vanished in a flash as we explored and turned over rocks and collected bits of sea glass in the afternoon sunshine. In contrast to the wintery grip of the last month today felt, wrongly no doubt, of spring. Just a minor blip I’m sure, but a welcome one. After a visit to Studland there’s only one possible thing to do. Visit Chez Fred’s in Westbourne. Just the best fish and chips, and I’m not going to sully that with any fancy descriptions.
Travelling home from there, Rachel gets a call. Her friend who has been in a coma has died. A terrible struggle, a terrible set of circumstances, a real tragedy for her family and friends. Nothing anyone can write or say can negate the pain that must be felt but all I can do is feel blessed that I’m not in Haiti, I’m not having to go through the terrible things that people all over the world are suffering every day. People who’ve read my site in the past know that there’s been pain in my life, but nothing on the same scale. So, if there is anything that you can take from a horrible end to a perfect day it’s to cherish what you have. To not strive constantly for things that you think will make life better. Sometimes you have to accept the cards that life has dealt you and enjoy them.
You don’t need that new rod, fancy car or trip to the maldives, nice as they may be. Take a look around you and enjoy the good bits, struggle the struggles as we all do, but make the most of the good bits. They may not last for ever.
