Oh Jesus, my son thinks im a failure..........
Discussion
Just back from a weekend in Wales, with my fiancee and my 3 year old son.
Lovely weather on saturday morning, dug a huge hole on the beach, threw stones into the sea, built sandcastles, had fish & chips on the seafront. Wonderful.
Then, it happened, a question that would alter my sons perception of his dad forever.
Can me go fishing?
Yes son, yes you can. Lets go and get what we need.
Moments later, we emerge from the shop, armed with a state of the art £2 crabline, complete with complimentary bacon as bait.
We proceed to the very same pier that my father took me crabbbing on (off?) when i was younger, and assemble the crabline.
Now, when i was a kid, a crabline had a ruddy great hook on it, you put the bait on the hook, pierced your thumb several times, and lowered it into the water. Not now. Now its a metal T bar that goes in a little bag with the bait.
Fiancee and my lad looking on with glee that the hunter/gatherer of the family gets to work.....
Attach the weight to the end of the line, insert the T bar, put in some bacon.
Ready son.......Ready.....1.......2........3............
Splash.
Where are the crabs daddy?
well son, we have to wait for the crabs to find the little bag with the bait in it, try to get the bacon out, and then raise them up out of the water.
Oh
20 seconds later
Where are the crabs daddy?
Just be patient son.
daddy. that boy just catched one
Did he son, thats good. you have a look at it in the bucket then, i will get one in a moment.
Nothing.
Then, i decide to listen to the fiancee and put all of the bacon in the bag.
In it goes again.
Bingo.
Look son, we have got one. See it...its holding onto the bag.
Its not very big daddy, and its fell off into the water again.
Oh yes.
That boy has catched another one
Oh good
This was repeated about 40 times, each one falling back in before getting it to the pier.
Daddy, that boy has catched lots of crabs now.
Ok son, we will get one in a minute.
Here we go, here we go, got 3 on it this time son.
Come on daddy, you can do it
Splash.....splash...............splash.
Daddy.
Yes son.
They fell off
Yes son.
Daddy
Yes son
That boy has catched another one
Thats nice son
I am now like a man possessed, casting (i believe the term is) further out than the kids that were there. Loads of crabs, each and every one falls back into the water before i can get it onto the pier. The lad next to me then starts giving me tips. Yeah, righto lad, i was doing this before you were born.
Daddy.
Yes son.
Daddy that boy has just put all of his crabs back into the water.
Thats because they only catch them for fun son, they dont eat these ones.
No. no. its because his bucket was full
Yes son
Daddy
Yes son
He has catched another one already.
Yes son.
By now, there must be at least a dozen kids alongside me, all with the same £2 state of the art crabline, all landing the f
king things every 30 seconds like a frenzied crab hating production line.
The fiancee is bored (yet pissing herself with laughter) children are offering to put a crab in my bucket so it looks like i caught one, my lad is now bored, and all of the parents are looking at the sight of a now chain smoking man, kneeling, hunched over the edge of the pier, muttering to himself, getting redder and redder.
Daddy, i bored, can we go and dig another hole.
IN A MINUTE
Daddy, you were good at digging.
Why not just fking stab me son.
Then the fiancee starts...come on this is boring.
I. WILL.BE. DONE.IN.A.MINUTE.
The lad next to me then tells me that he has caught 57 crabs in an hour an a half, using bacon as a bait.
fk it. Im done. Red mist has set in. Lad bored, fiancee bored, all eyes looking at the pathetic, sweaty, childish form of me furiously swinging a piece of string into the water (i can do this son, i CAN do this) whilst everyone else cant get the fking sideways bd things out quickly enough.
I wind the line half in, the boy and the fiancee go to look at a canoe coming along, so i give it one last chance. The chance to land a monster crab on the final cast of the day. The hunter coming home with the supper. The hero worship and adulation from my boy. A rite of passage when father and son gel together on a boys trip.
Weight of expectation heavy on my shoulders, i light my final ciggy of the pack. This is it. Man with string against sideways fish. The lad next to me empties his bucket (again) back in. I see where they enter the water, and decide to lob the bag in at that exact point. My lad and fiancee come back in time to see me swinging the line....watch daddy, watch daddy.....Splosh! The exact point where the lad empited his bucket.Result.
A split second later...
Splosh!
The whole line goes in (half wound in, not enough to reach the bottom and forgot to kneel on it) 4 children laugh, my fiancee laughs, then stops after receiving a look that would kill. I seeth. I fume. I rant. I rage. I swear. I swear again. And again. Swearing is good. I swear again.
I then turn around and put my foot straight into a bucket of water that the lad next to me has left.
I am ashamed, bright red, ready to lash out.
My son laughs, 50 people laugh. I see the last of the crabline being pulled to davy jones locker by the sheer number of unlandable crabs feasting.
We leave.
I fking hate fishing
Lovely weather on saturday morning, dug a huge hole on the beach, threw stones into the sea, built sandcastles, had fish & chips on the seafront. Wonderful.
Then, it happened, a question that would alter my sons perception of his dad forever.
Can me go fishing?
Yes son, yes you can. Lets go and get what we need.
Moments later, we emerge from the shop, armed with a state of the art £2 crabline, complete with complimentary bacon as bait.
We proceed to the very same pier that my father took me crabbbing on (off?) when i was younger, and assemble the crabline.
Now, when i was a kid, a crabline had a ruddy great hook on it, you put the bait on the hook, pierced your thumb several times, and lowered it into the water. Not now. Now its a metal T bar that goes in a little bag with the bait.
Fiancee and my lad looking on with glee that the hunter/gatherer of the family gets to work.....
Attach the weight to the end of the line, insert the T bar, put in some bacon.
Ready son.......Ready.....1.......2........3............
Splash.
Where are the crabs daddy?
well son, we have to wait for the crabs to find the little bag with the bait in it, try to get the bacon out, and then raise them up out of the water.
Oh
20 seconds later
Where are the crabs daddy?
Just be patient son.
daddy. that boy just catched one
Did he son, thats good. you have a look at it in the bucket then, i will get one in a moment.
Nothing.
Then, i decide to listen to the fiancee and put all of the bacon in the bag.
In it goes again.
Bingo.
Look son, we have got one. See it...its holding onto the bag.
Its not very big daddy, and its fell off into the water again.
Oh yes.
That boy has catched another one
Oh good
This was repeated about 40 times, each one falling back in before getting it to the pier.
Daddy, that boy has catched lots of crabs now.
Ok son, we will get one in a minute.
Here we go, here we go, got 3 on it this time son.
Come on daddy, you can do it
Splash.....splash...............splash.
Daddy.
Yes son.
They fell off
Yes son.
Daddy
Yes son
That boy has catched another one
Thats nice son
I am now like a man possessed, casting (i believe the term is) further out than the kids that were there. Loads of crabs, each and every one falls back into the water before i can get it onto the pier. The lad next to me then starts giving me tips. Yeah, righto lad, i was doing this before you were born.
Daddy.
Yes son.
Daddy that boy has just put all of his crabs back into the water.
Thats because they only catch them for fun son, they dont eat these ones.
No. no. its because his bucket was full
Yes son
Daddy
Yes son
He has catched another one already.
Yes son.
By now, there must be at least a dozen kids alongside me, all with the same £2 state of the art crabline, all landing the f
king things every 30 seconds like a frenzied crab hating production line.The fiancee is bored (yet pissing herself with laughter) children are offering to put a crab in my bucket so it looks like i caught one, my lad is now bored, and all of the parents are looking at the sight of a now chain smoking man, kneeling, hunched over the edge of the pier, muttering to himself, getting redder and redder.
Daddy, i bored, can we go and dig another hole.
IN A MINUTE
Daddy, you were good at digging.
Why not just f
king stab me son.Then the fiancee starts...come on this is boring.
I. WILL.BE. DONE.IN.A.MINUTE.
The lad next to me then tells me that he has caught 57 crabs in an hour an a half, using bacon as a bait.
f
k it. Im done. Red mist has set in. Lad bored, fiancee bored, all eyes looking at the pathetic, sweaty, childish form of me furiously swinging a piece of string into the water (i can do this son, i CAN do this) whilst everyone else cant get the fking sideways bd things out quickly enough.I wind the line half in, the boy and the fiancee go to look at a canoe coming along, so i give it one last chance. The chance to land a monster crab on the final cast of the day. The hunter coming home with the supper. The hero worship and adulation from my boy. A rite of passage when father and son gel together on a boys trip.
Weight of expectation heavy on my shoulders, i light my final ciggy of the pack. This is it. Man with string against sideways fish. The lad next to me empties his bucket (again) back in. I see where they enter the water, and decide to lob the bag in at that exact point. My lad and fiancee come back in time to see me swinging the line....watch daddy, watch daddy.....Splosh! The exact point where the lad empited his bucket.Result.
A split second later...
Splosh!
The whole line goes in (half wound in, not enough to reach the bottom and forgot to kneel on it) 4 children laugh, my fiancee laughs, then stops after receiving a look that would kill. I seeth. I fume. I rant. I rage. I swear. I swear again. And again. Swearing is good. I swear again.
I then turn around and put my foot straight into a bucket of water that the lad next to me has left.
I am ashamed, bright red, ready to lash out.
My son laughs, 50 people laugh. I see the last of the crabline being pulled to davy jones locker by the sheer number of unlandable crabs feasting.
We leave.
I f
king hate fishing
Mate, I'm truly sorry for this
But:
You actaully made me choke on my drink - now where's that iPhone & diet coke smiley?!?
I really thought it was going to end with you landing a crab!! I never saw that coming at the end!!
!!
Tbh I'm glad to know I'm not the only one who turns into a right lunatic - it is SO frustrating!!
Although I don't have a kid...!!
Cheers
The Moose
But:
You actaully made me choke on my drink - now where's that iPhone & diet coke smiley?!?
I really thought it was going to end with you landing a crab!! I never saw that coming at the end!!
!!Tbh I'm glad to know I'm not the only one who turns into a right lunatic - it is SO frustrating!!
Although I don't have a kid...!!
Cheers
The Moose
gti tim said:
Took baby gti to Cromer a few weeks ago - well known for 'crabbing' on the pier. No more hooks though - apparently it hurts crabs?? WTF??? Now you get a net into which you put a big rock and some bait, and wait for the crab to crawl into the net. Where's the fun in that?
Hurts crabs??? FFS. Stick your head in the kitchen of any decent restaurant and you'll see them ripping the claws off live crab and lobster and then boiling the now paraplegic crustacean alive.Gassing Station | The Lounge | Top of Page | What's New | My Stuff