I've many memories of my father in law Richard, but one in particular stands out to me, it stands testimony to what an incredibly patient man he was.
For many years I'd yearned for the thrill of landing a trout, I never knew if once the prize was caught, I would actually manage to strike the blow that ended a life and consume my catch for supper, but I yearned for that thrill and I had confided this to Richard.
One dull July morning, I set off to the banks of the Coquet, with Richard carrying rods and canvas pack containing an array of tools and feathers, hopeful that at long last my longed for catch was within sight. I was so naive, but not to be put off! I was determined I would return with supper!
Richard pulled out his canvas pack and showed me how to tie my first fly, I knew I should have taken glasses, it was hard to focus on the quick fingers skilfully twisting twine and feather to form the bait! But I watched and learnt, fearing that I would never manage to repeat those skilful moves, but hoping I could. Then I was taken to the bank and the art of casting was demonstrated, it looked so simple...yes...that 6lb trout would soon be mine! Supper beckoned, lemon, new potatoes, carrots....if it was that fresh, maybe I could attempt 'Truite au Blue', the chef in me beginning to resurface!
It didn't take me long to pick up the art of casting, I was of course encouraged with every cast, even when the line became entangled on the far bank I was encouraged, I never felt my clumsy efforts were inadequate, I never felt stupid, I was told I was doing well and that made me feel important.
My wellies filled with the chilled waters of the Coquet, which even in summer had the ability to freeze toes to the bone, and my shoulder ached from casting out my line time and time again, but still I remained hopeful.
After several hours, as I'm sure even the most patient of us may have wondered, I began to question my presence in this river, 'what was I doing wrong,' 'why did that 6lb trout elude my bait,' 'was it hiding in the shallows laughing at my efforts to mimic a fly with my collection of feather and twine?'
Eventually, I turned to Richard and sighed, he smiled, still casting his line, and said "it's ok, I've not caught a thing in this part of the river since just after the war," I didn't know whether to laugh or cry...but now I laugh, the enduring message for me, it's not about what you get, it's about enjoying the moment...about the effort you put in! The rewards that day for me were the precious moments, learning, watching and just being patient, enjoying the peace and the moment!
I did find a bottle in the river that day, an old empty medicine bottle, or something similar. It stands on my kitchen shelf as a lasting memory to that morning, I don't need that trout...I have my memories and my bottle!