The Courier & Advertiser (Angus and Dundee)
If they ask for me, tell them I’ve gone fishing
Fiona is hooked after she learns a new skill that leads her to recall a life lesson taught to her by her mother when she was a teenager
This week I am asked to attend a special service to mark the efforts of the Merchant Navy over two World Wars. As I sit down in the church, all is well. When I open my programme terror strikes. This is some mistake, surely? But, no, there it is in black and white. Item three on the running order clearly states ‘Address by Fiona Armstrong’.
Talk about having a sinking feeling, although that’s probably not quite the right word to use when mentioning things maritime.
These days I do seem to be forgetting rather more than I should. But would I really not have remembered being asked to speak?
Nevertheless, we are where we are. An audience is waiting and I must now draw on what little nautical knowledge I have. I must stand up and say it loudly and clearly.
What I do know, as I get to my feet, is that the Merchant Navy may not always have had the same recognition as the Royal Navy but the importance of its attempts to deliver vital food and equipment supplies during tremendously testing times cannot be underestimated.
Think Arctic convoys. Think of the storms and the dangers of transatlantic shipping. Think of all that hardship those stoic sailors endured.
Think, more poignantly, of the tens of thousands of Merchant Navy lives lost during 20th Century conflicts.
I do think – and I do hope – that I may just have got away with it…
A life on the ocean wave has been very much the theme over the last few days. The chief and I are staying with friends in Stranraer. They are taking us fishing in the Irish Sea – and I am now a convert.
You can forget about those long, empty hours of searching for elusive and often non-existent salmon. You do not have to fear the frustration of arriving at the river only to find it’s too high, too low or simply too wet to cast a line.
No, the one sure way to catch a fish these days is to turn your attention to mackerel. Let that line with its colourful lures sink into the salty depths and bang! Fish on, almost immediately.
Between us we hook a bucket-load, which we then cook in foil over a fire on a sandy beach. The rain stays off and we gobble up the delicious, smoke-charred offerings.
Oily fish is very good for you. And the smell makes hungry hounds lick their lips. The Macnaughties hover close by,
Between us we hook a bucketload, which we cook in foil over a fire on a sandy beach
hoping for a morsel or two.
The Spaniel and the Norfolk Terrier have a great day on the beach, running in and out of the waves. Wet and sandy and with a delicious mackerel head to crunch on. What more does a dog need?
We leave that little spot of heaven with regret. Then, as my mother used to tell me when a teenage romance ended, don’t worry: there are plenty more fish in the sea.