Far from the maddening crowd

Bloody English people. What’s happened to our stiff collared respect of others personal space? Where has the ability to think of other people gone? Ignorant townie eejits.

Sorry to start off on a rant, but I’ve just sat down on the only exposed piece of sand left on Studland beach after circumventing thousands of tents, teepees, wind breaks and yurts. I’ve sat down, Joe’s digging in the sand, my little picnic rug is spread. oh, wait, what are these bloody people doing???? Bastards! They’ve set up a fricking tent right in front of me, I had to move to avoid the guy rope. They’ve turned up, brummie accents, three tents, three dogs, eight kids and have spread themselves right across me. I now can’t actually walk to the water without stepping through their tents and I can’t now see Joe playing on the sand by the water.

Seriously, not only is it bloody rude, but what the hell is the point in turning up to a lovely beach, pitching a string of tents and then sitting inside them for most of the day???? I am so tempted to run along with a lighter and just torch the bloody things, it would be majestic, a string of ‘whoof’ noises all along the beach, like a pyromaniac mexican wave.

Given the number plates in the carpark I can only assume that people being crammed into cities, fighting for their own space and not worrying about other people is a hard habit to shake off when you finally, gasping and coughing like a 100 a day smoker, make it to fresh air. Perhaps the tent is like a comfort blanket for retarded city folk, unable to communicate though anything but their iphones and blackberry instant messenger. Take down the chuffing tent moron! You may find that the person next to you would even be interesting to chat to, and that they may not want to steal your phone or abduct your child.

But anyway, I’ve got an ice cream, I’ve calmed down a little even though the beach still looks like a carp anglers convention. Sunburnt people with shaved heads sitting around tents ignoring the world around them for hours on end, radios playing, football results drifting over the sands drowning out the beautiful lap lap lap of the waves and the keening cry of the seagull.

If only this was a phenomenon that only occurred at the beach. It’s mayfly circus time on the rivers. Etiquette has gone out of the window in the rush to catch as many fish as possible, people are leapfrogging each other on the banks of west Amesbury, upsetting one another in their pursuit of a rising trout. The beauty of living here however is the ability to stay at home, or to go elsewhere.

I haven’t fished a single mayfly pattern on the busy waters this year. I’ve fished with a few good friends and have actively searched out quiet waters. The Stour at Wimbourne, The Avon and Nadder as they run through Salisbury, The Avon further down towards Fordingbridge. I’ve had some great fish, good craic with friends and on the rare occasion I’ve met another angler it’s been like meeting an old friend, not a threat to your fishing potential.

The heavy June weedcut is now upon us, the fish are getting picky and the weather is changing. The idiots around me will all be sat on the M3 by 7pm and peace will descend for a while, here on the beach and on the rivers.

I for one look forward to mayfly time, that is I look forward to it ending.

Long live the hot slow dog days of summer!

Malcolm

This entry was posted on Wednesday, June 9th, 2010 at 9:56 am. It is filed under The Diary. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.