After an enjoyable evening fishing on the river Slaney, four anglers met in Deanes Bar, Bunclody. Whilst enjoying a few pints of the black stuff, the conversation turned to what had happened during the day’s fishing on the river. As they continued to enjoy their pints, each of the men claimed to have a great story to tell. All agreed the best story would win a whisky off each of the others. The stories began with each being exaggerated to ludicrous levels. Johnny led the competition, he claimed he had cast so far across the river he caught the bank on the opposite side. The fishermen all nodded, they could well believe that. Then Bert trumped in, HE bragged he had cast so far across the river, that he had caught a sheep walking on the other side and it ran off with his cast. They again all nodded, it was very possible. Gerry then chimed in with his story, he boasted that he was fishing with a 3 fly cast when he struck on 3 fish at the same time, and when he reeled them in they were all foul hooked. He was nearly offered the prize until Matt piped in with his story. He gloated that whilst fishing deep, he hooked what he thought was a big fish and reeled it in only to find it was an old brass miner’s lamp. The rest of them weren’t that impressed and shook their heads at each other, until, he said “guess what?” They all listened closely with great anticipation and leaned in. Matt said “It was still alight!” they laughed and gave him his well-deserved prize.
Stories you may also like
An Ode to Boro
The tiny stream beside our house was a favourite place to play. The bridge was a source of politics for our neighbours who claimed that either side of the small bridge was of equal importance. The question; “Are you on the Knoxtown side or the Killegney side?” became a well know statement and point of
Alana’s Hat
We are on the Marina, my granddaughter and me. I hold her in my arms. She points and grunts. “Yes”, I say, “these are the great trawlers all tucked up in bed together now but soon they will be carefully making their way out of Wexford Harbour. They will bring back mussels for us”. She
Born Free Lived Free Virus Free
On arising each morning these days those are the ifrst words to be uttered by me without fail, whether statement, quesiton, prayer or mantra ifts my mental bill I’m not too sure but that’s how it is for me. As a senior ciitzen living alone cocooning in lockdown no one hears if I talk to
By Hook or by Crook
The sun like a warning, blood red begins to slowly set. Two young children run along the itde’s edge collecitng shells. They giggle and scamper along the shoreline, chasing the oystercatchers as they run. Their bare feet leaving small imprints in the wet sand, for a brief moment, before disappearing. Waves folding and peeling across