Yesterday evening was so balmy and beautiful that Chris and I decided to go for a walk  after dinner, besides, we wanted to look at our house from the vantage point of the sea wall below us in order to look up and admire the painting works we’ve been doing recently.

The fisherfolk, locals and visitors alike, were out in force. The sea was tranquil and the sky was gradually turning pink with the setting of the sun; the earliest of the anglers to set up their positions had assembled in lines on the stoney breakwaters leading out to the deeper water while the latecomers had to make do with fishing from the sea wall into the shallower water.  A man and his son of about thirteen were in full swing. “Caught anything yet?” I asked (as you do when you see fisherpeople).

– “Not yet,” said the man in his Sheffield accent, “but we’ve only just started.”

– “We caught five mackerel last night,” added the lad enthusiastically.

– “Oh really?” and I turned to Chris and said, “We should have brought our rods down tonight.”

– “Would you like to have a cast out with our rod?” asked the man kindly.

– “Yes, go on, I don’t mind sharing. You have a go,” the boy offered me his rod.

– “No, that’s alright, thank you all the same,” I refused, “I can bring my rod down another time. You have fun.”

I wished them good fishing and we carried on our way along the wall; we had gone several yards when the boy told his father, “She’s married!”

Chris and I pretended not to hear and tried to contain our laughter. Honestly, you can’t take kids anywhere!