So we caught a fish. A mackerel. With my sons toy fishing rod. It was a big mackerel and quite the most extraordinary moment. Unexpected. So J felt quite proud I think. As novices with such practical skills involving nature. When the fish was pulled out of the water, something animalistic came over my normally calm hippy demeanor and I beat the fish a little too vigorously over the head with a large stone. Silence fell among us for a moment as we all looked at the bleeding skull of the mackerel glistening on the stones. (Seemingly, I would make a very passionate murderer.)
It turns out there are exceptional conditions at the moment and the whitebait are feeding close to shore bringing the mackerel closer to the beach than usual. We watched some fisherman catching for sport, pulling in a fish every minute and throwing them back. The sea was quite literally churned up by the shoals of fish out there and as the tide receded hundreds of whitebait were left lining the shore.
Yes I gutted the poor shiny thing and grilled him to perfection. Delicious (apart from the bleedin’ eye).