The business

I suppose the trouble with business is ultimately you have to make money which is useful but on the whole shit boring. So I am hopefully going to make fishing lures instead and then sell them for money so I can continue making fishing lures and eating and going fishing. That is my business plan, lucky I don`t have to take it to the bank and ask for money based on the last sentence.  The biggest question is, can I do it?  I am not the only person asking, both in-laws and outlaws are asking. I think I can and what’s more I am going to give it a go.

Above is my first advert, this feels a bit like prostituting the thing I love but needs must and at least it is an attempt at humour although an advertising guru would tell me it is sending out mixed messages.    Bollocks to mission statements, bollocks to ethos I am just going to make lures that I like and that I catch fish with, hopefully other people might also. Watch this space the lures will be on sale by the end of the week.

My wife says I always look like that picture above and that based on that evidence I should smarten up my act.  Yes and the hook is real and even with the point snapped off it hurt.

A little bit of airbrushing

So I am a little bit further along with my fishing lures, hopefully they will be for sale this year.

Fishing the big Murky (Mersey)

Image Above: A rod at rest on the River Mersey.

Image below left: 2 Hook Flapper Rig

The tide has past exhausting itself amongst the flats and concrete elbows of the inner estuary. The deep, mud laden waters of the river pause as if contemplating their next move.

 I lean on the promenade rail in the sun feeling the warmth drain from me in the chill breeze. A line is out from a rod propped on the handlebar grips of my by bicycle. I close one eye and line the rod tip up with the corner of one of the giant sheds of a shipyard on the far bank. The tip traces a diagonal route over the cladding, down to the river and back marking a gentle breath and exhalation as the tension of each passing wavelet is transmitted through the taught line to the rod.

The  line is anchored into the riverbed by a spiked weight and a little above, two junctions carry short lengths to baited hooks that would ordinarily flap in the current, hence the name ‘flapper rig’.  I tied the rig last night as part of the preparations that have found their way into the ritual of a fishing trip. Other preparations included a trip to the tackle shop to buy line and pick brains.

The owner is never fearful of handing out advice despite the audience of misplaced fishermen that hang about ready to argue for some other rig, rod or just something else. I tell him about the tide carrying my weights off when I cast. He tells me not to let any more line out once the weight hits the water and that slack line will just act like a spinnaker giving the tide more leverage over the weight. He tells me other things as well and the stories build until only fishing and fish matter and everything else is pushed into the gaps. 

I buy mackerel from the fish counter in the supermarket and the sales assistant asks me if I am going fishing, I laugh and ask is it only fishermen looking for bait who shop here, he doesn’t answer.

I was away early this morning before the cars filled up the shopping streets hiding the takeaway cartons and cigarette butts that fill the gutters.

The river is moving again and I am reminded that I am fishing the shipping lane by the prow of a vessel that is folding back the water as it pushes on upstream.