Tuesday, 30 September 2008

Hook a Duck.

Himself and I have very little in common which is probably why our relationship works so well.

Surprisingly, Fishing (or Fishting as our youngest calls it,) has recently become an area of mutual interest. He spends hours by the river spinning and reeling before returning home jubilant in the knowledge that he caught 6 Perch, 4 Pike and not forgetting the one that got away. I prefer to cast my line and fish for people.....More of a hook-a-duck situation you might say, simply because you never know who are what is going to pop up on the end of your rod.

They bob in and out of the foyer, jostling for position at the leaflet carousel before weaving their way into line. Every now and then a little face will appear sideways as they check the distance from you to them, trying to catch your eye, willing you to favour them over the 3 or 4 people at the front of the queue.

Sometimes they don't see you depending which position you're on and where the light is shining. A clerk has been known to go to extreme lengths to attract the attention of a customer by half hanging through the porthole like a limp doll exhausted from casting, casting and casting again... " Hello - may I help you...? " whilst said punter nods and bobs to the music in their earphones oblivious to the world around them.

I'm inclined to adopt the stealth approach. Like waiting for some poor unsuspecting punter to use the counter worktop to check the brochure thinking the position is closed because the curtains are drawn.

A sitting duck.

I wait patiently watching their reflection in the metal surface between us as they huddle and flurry and twitter; blissfully unaware of my presence.

I make no move, I give nothing away. I have them in my sights.


With one fell swoop I tear the curtains aside.


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