Chuck the Schedule…

Life is so very busy for the vast majority of us. I look at my completed schedule some weeks and honestly wonder exactly how I fitted everything in. Some weeks I look at an uncompleted schedule and wonder where things went so very wrong.

I have very high expectations of myself and place myself under enormous pressure to perform. Last week my daughter and I sat down to a Twilight movie marathon, I’ve watched these films plenty of times, so I brought my laptop along and worked on a novella I’m writing. 

Daughter: Mom, are you working?

 Me: No, I’m writing. I’m on leave from work today.

Daughter: *Eye roll* That IS working, Mom.

I’ve never treated my writing as a hobby, it is a job to me. Not just the writing, but being an author in general, there are aspects of it which are more laborious for me. Tasks that make it feel more like a job than a mere hobby. Of course, technically I don’t have to write. It doesn’t put food on my table or a roof over my head by any stretch of the imagination. Still, I place enormous pressure on myself to complete a weekly word count. My writing is a job, because even if I don’t want to do it, I still still down and tap the keys regardless. Thanks to Lily for reminding me of how much work I put into creating, whether that’s writing or narrating.

However, this is not the point of this blog. The message I’m here to give you is, sometimes you have to say ‘fuck it’ and throw the schedule out of the window. And a few weekends ago I did just that. I did something I used to really enjoy, but I simply haven’t made any time for since I flung myself back into this crazy world of creating fiction after a few years out of the game. I went fishing! Not just on one day, but Saturday and Sunday!

Fishing was first introduced to me almost four years ago when I met my partner, Nick. I went to watch one day and was oddly fascinated by the entire process, the sense of calm all around you and all of that thinking time you’re afforded by simply watching a float, hoping it will soon disappear beneath the waterline and you’ll have a freaking monster on the end.

Though, in my case, it’s usually something smaller than the stock of my small home aquarium! But, sometimes it’s not. You can have a good guess by how hard it tugs, but you’re not always right. It’s a surprise!

Now, I’m quite a girly, girl…skirts, heels, make-up and all that jazz. So, when I say I enjoy angling, I’m often met with great surprise. It was a shock to me as well, because before I began this journey the notion of touching a fish or a maggot would have actually made me vomit! It really is funny how you can change you own mind!

I digress. On the Saturday I went along with my partner to give it a go. I hadn’t been for such a long time I didn’t expect much success. I actually wasn’t even ready for my first catch, I dipped my line and felt that long missed tug before I even managed to ship the pole out into the lake. The ensuing few hours continued with a muchness. With my confidence fully restored I confidently put my name down for a match the following day.

Now, I loved pleasure fishing all of the times I went. Well, except for those days when I caught bugger all, which was often toward the end, hence the most likely reason for packing away my gear and exclaiming, “Fuck that shit! I ain’t sitting freezing my tits off for fuck all again.” But, a match always terrified me. Look, if I was a bloke I’d probably be okay with it, but I was a female living in a mans world for a very long time and I didn’t much enjoy that either. In fact I’d say it aggravated my non-conformist personality and brought it kicking and screaming to the forefront of my being. If you want to know what oppression looks like, try being a female in the military and you’ll experience being a second class citizen. You won’t enjoy it, and if you’re as strong willed as I am, you won’t accept it either. This is exactly why my career was over before it ever began. I wouldn’t change a thing. In my current career I rule by fear, sarcasm and the complete knowledge that I’m one of the best in my field. That way, people put up with my bullshit and general abruptness. So, I was terrified about how I’d be taken.

On the day, there was another women there which settled my nerves a little. She was lovely and chatty to me, too, which really helped. Also, while I was sat there I heard a conversation about how nice it was to see women fishing, though they emphasised how much they would hate their wives doing it because of the extra bait they’d have to buy, which made me laugh to myself.

Unfortunately, I pulled the worst peg EVER out of the bag! Peg 15 sits by a little bridge, meaning if your catch decides to fuck off underneath it, you’re essentially buggered! 

At one point I had one on, obviously a monster, which dragged me into the reeds and decided to spit my hook out and leave it in there. Could I free it? Could I hell as like. Luckily the owner come to my rescue…I had clearly loosened it by that point LOL!

It came to the weigh in. I had enjoyed the day so much, listening to my audio book, that I honestly wasn’t bothered about the result. I thought I had around 15lbs in my net and my partner weighed in at 17lb ish and I assured him I had caught less. My net were pulled and the fish were loaded into the weighing net, at which point my partners face paled somewhat and he turned to me and said, “I thought you hadn’t caught that much?”

It turns out I caught 22lbs ish! I was wholly ‘unsportswomanlike’ in my reaction, bouncing up the bank exclaiming, “Loser!” What? I couldn’t help it! 

Unfortunately, in a way this has made me not want to lose my winning streak. By winning streak I mean beating my partner because overall I came second to last. So, will I be partaking this Sunday? Probably not, but not because I don’t want to spoil my streak and more to do with the fact that it’s probably going to fucking piss it down…

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Have a great weekend! 🙂