Some more thoughts about my friend Ewin. It is actually proving an interesting exercise to try and quantify and describe exactly what it is about the friendship that is so valuable, and what the chemistry might really be. Of course you can be too analytical and forensic on something that is abstract but no less real for that. And I run the risk of trivialising something by not being able to do it justice with words. One way to tackle the challenge is to describe as simply as I can the things we find ourselves doing through which the relationship and especially his qualities can be highlighted. Don’t forget this is in part an exercise of acknowledging his qualities while he is alive and not waiting until he is dead before admitting them.
Ewin and I go fishing, but never as often as we should. We have good intentions – I even leave my rods and gear at his place to help prod us along to the beach when I am visiting his part of the world. He has even gone to the trouble of building a special rack from which to hang them in his garage. We admire the rack (his beer fridge is out there so we often do what blokes do and drink a beer and stand around in the garage admiring the latest hardware adventure) more than we use the rods!
But the fact of the matter is that when Ewin and I fish we catch absolute crap. Apart, and we have great tales to tell of amazing catches. Together, we land the tiniest fillet, stand for hours and catch nothing but the breeze in our hair, or land the ugliest thing cruising the coast that day. I mean, that catfish was seriously disturbing.
Regardless of the result there is always a lot of hilarity, stupid jokes, long drives, insect bites, moaning kids, and a cold beer at the end of it. And an irrepressible Ewin who refuses to let the fact that we invest more bait into the water than we take back deter him from having a GREAT day. If you need any instruction on how to let go and not take yourself too seriously come and spend a day with Ewin. I can promise you it will be remarkably therapeutic. And yes, we did throw them all back, both the small and the ugly. The eel did not fare so well as he had wrapped himself up in the line and refused to give up the hook. Oh yes, there was a single squid as well that got turned into bait. A splendid, hilarious, productive day.
Thanks for reading. This blog is an opportunity for me to capture some of the diversity of my writing interests. My muse tend to appear on my shoulder as I board an international flight although not all of my writing is inspired by travel and foreign places. These blogs have been the basis of a novel (Flowers of Baghdad) but there are a few other writing projects in progress besides. Please feel free to leave a comment. Or two.