Hard Days Back Then

It was hard days back then, before the weir, or you might call it something more. Damn too, It was said. And I lost a lot of boats. They were small ones and they were testy ones, but I loved them still.

The thing is with a small boat, all the curraghs and coracles and baskets wove and tarred, they're a tippy craft. My grandson says he seen them in Asia. I think it was Vietnam. But I don't know who I'm writing this for. It must be myself. That being true, it needent matter, but I think it was there where they had those terrible wars. Vietnam.

I lost a good few of them and improved my swimming but did nothing for my tackle supplies, some of which cost me a load. Too much money to tip, but yet you can't think about it when you swim. The alternative of course is not too long-term. Still, I loved them boats and the spinning tops which bobbed and the feeling of being like a scoop on the crest of a tremendous depth and I think about them boats near daily when I chance upon the idea and I suspect I'll mention them as I die.

My own father talked about potatoes and seaweed and what kept him alive in the hard days back then.

He was dying and there was nurses and tubes and machines and instuments that measured the rate of his departure and there he was talking about seaweed and potatoes. So, I suspect I'll talk about wicker boats one day.