fish
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a museMost evenings when the kids are bathed and bedded i like to snatch a bit of time in my shed.Sheds are a social phenomenon,a mans place an escape.my shed is now over 70 years old,stone built and small,in it i have surrounded myself in all the ephemera of the country man,snares on tealers,nets for fish and nets for rabbits and black tip rabbit,a crop of cattypults hang from old rusty nails each as different from the other as my kids but still all have a bit of me in them. stacked are trays full of my chattels,tools in one bone in the other , another full of exotic woods,and hanging from the eves a pair of exmoor stag horns .In the background is the BBC trickling from the wireless joined in chorus by the windy rattle of the old stable style door. The Valor paraffin heater is lit and the warmth convects and radiates basking man and dog in warmth,the long dog has a bed under the work bench,just a blanket in a mothers pride basket,there he twitches and yaps as he dreams of the chase,and judging by the wag of his tail he gets em too! as the dog sleeps i sit in my chair and knit another hemp purse net and i find my mind wondering to the hunts of days gone and old friends ,some with us some now gone. my mind drifted still further and i felt a connection to my ancestors who over the millenia have in their way done much the same as me of a cold February night ,they had a fire and not the easy to light valor,and maybe a dog not to dis-similar to mine,and they too would have probably been crafting some means of getting a meal.
As the evening progresses the nets are hung in turn ,regimented on their rusty nail.as i get up from the chair the dog awakes ,as i sling my lamp over my shoulder he gets up and stretches ,arching his back with a shudder.he knows its time to walk the fields whilst others sleep..........
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