I spent the weekend with my wife in Blackpool..... that's very unusual cos it's usually with someone else.[
]
The forecast was rubbish for sea angling so i thought i'd take along some spinning gear and my fly fishing stuff, so come saturday morning, no hangover and i was gagging to wet my line.
I drove toward the A6 area and cruised into St, Michael's on Wyre, no he is not a circus act but a little village with no idiots, so the shopkeeper told me. (shut up Alan)
I managed to obtain a day permit to fish the river Wyre half a mile away, i pulled over onto a grass verge along side a newly built cottage, i grabbed my gear and left the Ghoul of Noggsie
reading her detective mags, eight in all i kid you not, she is infatuated with chainsaw killings, acid bath murders and pulling legs off baby spiders ( i want me mum
)
i ran across the busy road and through a field opposite the cottage, picking out a nice peg on the bend of the river. I undid my flies,....... FROM THE BOX, FROM THE BOX, they were a tangled mess but i managed to extract a few buzzers and emergers....well, that's all yer getting from the fly fishing side, the real story begins after i pack up, after two hours and not a bite and that includes spinning, i made my way back across the field and stopped at the verge facing the cottage....
a dirty big tan coloured labrador began barking it's head off at me from behind the three foot wall it was chewing..."DOWN" shouted it's ten year old keeper and pulled it off the wall....up it came again and the little girl repeated ..."DOWN",..... i thought " Oh dear me"[:0] ....
my thoughts flashed back twenty five years ago when my wife and i walked along our street and from the other side of the road came pounding a dog barking it's head off at us, i let go with the best left foot in the Zingari Alliance,
about three back somersaults later the dog scampered away up the street and the young female owner, about ten/twelve years old was crying and said it would not have bitten us, i don't take chances like that but i felt terribly guilty seeing her cry like that.
I thought i would hate to put my boot in again and waited impatiently for a gap in the traffic, after this escort Dan, ok now , i stepped into the road and was about to cross diagonally toward my car when suddenly the labrador bounded over the wall like our dear soldiers on the Somme
....
it rushed toward me snarling and slobbering at the thought of a juicy arse to bite into, it lowered itself like a lion about to jump onto a wilderbeast, my pants began to fill with a gallon of the black stuff (i'd been drinking Guiness the night before []) when i spotted this car nearing us, i called for assistance in the guise of St Peter and St Anthony, if it worked for my mother it would work for me
...
please car hit the dog, HIT THAT F**KING DOG,.....bang,,,,it did, it bloody well did, it caught the dog on it's shoulders and spun it round, the car stopped, i held my breath, the dog did'nt know what to do, i did, i headed for my car in case it's memory was'nt affected, the dog ran back, not badly hurt i figured but the little girl was shocked, i felt sadness for her but gladness for my bum...
the girl's father came out and i explained what had just happened.."IS THE DOG OK?" i shouted....( lying b*****d me [] ), anyway i jumped into the car and said to my ghoul friend, " did yer see that then?"....."see wha'?"....."tha' , that dog was going for me, it was gonna kill me, honest".
She looked at me as if i was Hans Christian Andersen and said, " there's a funny smell in 'ere" if it was'nt for saints Peter and Anthony i would have smelt a lot worse in another week.
[:I]
Danny
] The forecast was rubbish for sea angling so i thought i'd take along some spinning gear and my fly fishing stuff, so come saturday morning, no hangover and i was gagging to wet my line.
I drove toward the A6 area and cruised into St, Michael's on Wyre, no he is not a circus act but a little village with no idiots, so the shopkeeper told me. (shut up Alan)
I managed to obtain a day permit to fish the river Wyre half a mile away, i pulled over onto a grass verge along side a newly built cottage, i grabbed my gear and left the Ghoul of Noggsie
reading her detective mags, eight in all i kid you not, she is infatuated with chainsaw killings, acid bath murders and pulling legs off baby spiders ( i want me mum
) i ran across the busy road and through a field opposite the cottage, picking out a nice peg on the bend of the river. I undid my flies,....... FROM THE BOX, FROM THE BOX, they were a tangled mess but i managed to extract a few buzzers and emergers....well, that's all yer getting from the fly fishing side, the real story begins after i pack up, after two hours and not a bite and that includes spinning, i made my way back across the field and stopped at the verge facing the cottage....
a dirty big tan coloured labrador began barking it's head off at me from behind the three foot wall it was chewing..."DOWN" shouted it's ten year old keeper and pulled it off the wall....up it came again and the little girl repeated ..."DOWN",..... i thought " Oh dear me"[:0] ....
my thoughts flashed back twenty five years ago when my wife and i walked along our street and from the other side of the road came pounding a dog barking it's head off at us, i let go with the best left foot in the Zingari Alliance,
about three back somersaults later the dog scampered away up the street and the young female owner, about ten/twelve years old was crying and said it would not have bitten us, i don't take chances like that but i felt terribly guilty seeing her cry like that.
I thought i would hate to put my boot in again and waited impatiently for a gap in the traffic, after this escort Dan, ok now , i stepped into the road and was about to cross diagonally toward my car when suddenly the labrador bounded over the wall like our dear soldiers on the Somme
.... it rushed toward me snarling and slobbering at the thought of a juicy arse to bite into, it lowered itself like a lion about to jump onto a wilderbeast, my pants began to fill with a gallon of the black stuff (i'd been drinking Guiness the night before [
]) when i spotted this car nearing us, i called for assistance in the guise of St Peter and St Anthony, if it worked for my mother it would work for me
... please car hit the dog, HIT THAT F**KING DOG,.....bang,,,,it did, it bloody well did, it caught the dog on it's shoulders and spun it round, the car stopped, i held my breath, the dog did'nt know what to do, i did, i headed for my car in case it's memory was'nt affected, the dog ran back, not badly hurt i figured but the little girl was shocked, i felt sadness for her but gladness for my bum...
the girl's father came out and i explained what had just happened.."IS THE DOG OK?" i shouted....( lying b*****d me [
] ), anyway i jumped into the car and said to my ghoul friend, " did yer see that then?"....."see wha'?"....."tha' , that dog was going for me, it was gonna kill me, honest". She looked at me as if i was Hans Christian Andersen and said, " there's a funny smell in 'ere" if it was'nt for saints Peter and Anthony i would have smelt a lot worse in another week.
[:I]
Danny
