During the time we spend waiting for our dinners to be cooked we usually take a long walk along the quayside where the fishing trawlers are docked. (Even though I grew up in the fishing village of Ringsend, Dublin, my knowledge of sea faring terminology is zilch, so apologies to any fishermen reading this!
Each time I'm close to these great monsters I think of the brave men aboard them who brave the wild seas every day to bring to our tables our favourite sea foods. When I'm not in sight of them I suppose, like a lot of people, I take it for granted that the fish just arrive in the chip shops and on the butchers' and supermarkets' shelves and never give much thought either to the risk to life involved with each catch.
The fishing paraphernalia, on the right, brings back memories of my days on the slip-way in Ringsend. Rowing boats, fishing nets and those cages that I guess shell fish are caught in would all be lined up along the slip wall but it's the combined smells of fish and seaweed that will always hold the greatest memories of my early life by the sea.
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Now you are talking a language I can understand ha ha. Love the photos of the boats.
ReplyDeleteAh thanks so much Donald and just for you I've added a couple more pics that I'm sure will rekindle some more old fishing memories! Cheers!!
ReplyDeleteYou don't need to make apologies to any fishermen who might read this, they like me will love every bit of it.
ReplyDeleteThat's great to know Donald, so I will plod onwards with my childhood sea tales or any other shipping adventures in the sound knowledge that my nautical terminology will not be brought into question! Yay!
ReplyDeleteEnjoy the remaining week Donald, Cheers for now.