There has been more fishing done in the past week than over the whole summer, courtesy of the Hawkins boys (Sam, 11; Tom, 7; Harry, 4 and John, forty-something) who came to stay over Hallowe’en.
There were still plenty of mackerel in the lough, Sam caught a couple of lithe (I think), and the only marginally disappointing aspect was the lack of lobsters in our pot (or indeed the Hawkins’
casier d’ homards, an ingenious collapsible pot which they brought with them from France). We did, however, manage a few eating crabs, which John dressed and which were put on the menu for the Hallowe’en banquet.
The big news, though, is that my godson Harry caught his first ever fish, and as you might be able to guess from the expression on his face, he told me about this quite a few times afterwards, even though I’m sure I was there at the time..
There has been more fishing done in the past week than over the whole summer, courtesy of the Hawkins boys (Sam, 11; Tom, 7; Harry, 4 and John, forty-something) who came to stay over Hallowe’en.
