I have come to realise that I do not much enjoy living in ‘interesting times’. If that is indeed what we can call the now.
We are certainly living in a time of confusion. And mess. Working twice as long for half as much, and then waking to discover that yesterday we hadn’t even been standing on square one.
Quite where we end up is anyone’s guess. We wait and stagnate – desensitised and disparate.
The deep breath before the plunge as Tolkien so eloquently put it. Except, our lungs have long since emptied.
What to do? Fishing has become a bit more pressured. I have not been quite so flexible with my time as previously, my days not nearly so adaptable. And in keeping a monthly angling diary (at www.fallonsangler.net should you feel inclined) I have a pressure to go and catch fish. Not that I have any right to grumble about the fact. The pressure is largely self-created – thinking too much about something can turn it into a chore. And once your sight has been knocked out of line it is hard to walk a sensible path.
But then come the real moments. Snapshots that pull you back to what is important. It isn’t about catching a big perch but sitting beside a calming pool at dusk as a blackbird clears its throat behind you.
It is a kestrel hunched against the cold.
It is the first coiled adder of the year.
These are the things that really matter. Deep breath. And another. This is reality.
This is reality.