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Diary of a diabetic day 10 - no fish were harmed in the making of this report

Tom Winnifrith
Wednesday 12 April 2017

Yesterday was a day of two halves. First the good type 2 diabetic. Raw oats and a small banana for breakfast was followed by a fishing expedition. The Mrs and i walked to a small deserted harbour about a mile away so that I could put the rod borrowed from our host, Bjorn, into action. No kidding, he really is Bjorn from Sweden.

I managed to assemble Bjorn's rod and my reel and attach a spinner which, according to the internet, is the way to catch lots of sea trout. I should, at this point, admit that the last time I actually caught a fish was in 1976. In that hot summer I landed a perch in the Cherwell and a stack of cod and mackerel from a boat offshore Whitby. Since then I have been the ultimate ethical fisherman, catching absolutely nothing.

Annoyingly a Swedish couple were sitting by the harbour and so we had to wait for half an hour for them to leave before i could cast away. I really did not want them laughing at my complete lack of technique. The Mrs took a few photos and then left with Joshua as she had some sociologist pals to meet in town for politically correct conversation and alcohol. after a while of catching nothing I concluded that I must be at the wrong location and so headed inland and back along another road to the next cove. Oddly enough that location did not work out either and so i started to follow a path marked nature trail.

Before i knew it i was clambering over some rather narrow paths up and down the rocks at the centre of the island. I emerged a mile and a half later at the far northern corner where a small footbridge links this island to the next one.

More fishing followed and by the end of the day my technique was, if I say so myself, less than shoddy but sadly no fish were caught. I headed back to the village by a different route, getting lost only twice, and emerged at the village store after almost six hours of trekking feeling rather faint and in urgent need of a restorative banana and some rye bread. That was the good diabetic.

In the evening I headed into Gothenburg via ferry and tram for dinner with two friends of the Mrs. When a liberal tells you "Hillary only lost because she was a woman" you know you are in trouble. I countered with "will you say the same if Marine Le Pen loses" and then suggested that the fact that crooked Hillary was such a crook might have deterred some voters from pulling the Dem lever. Then I got the liberal response "but she won really because she got more votes" . Aaah yes, she lost because she was a woman which is why she gor more votes. Gosh those sexists game the electoral college well. So let move the electoral college goalposts after folks have voted. I blame the fucking Russians.

The friends of the Mrs were a really nice couple but there were certain areas we agreed not to touch. These are folks who think President Putin wants to invade Sweden so there is no point in discussing self determination as it might apply to the Crimea or eastern Ukraine. An evening of lip biting left me unable to resist three drinks and a couple of small cookies. I felt guilty even if the Mrs also had ice cream and more drinks. But a walk up the hill from the ferry to our rented island house in cold driving rain sharpened me up and my morning blood sugar reading after that day of two halves was a cracking 9.7. Well done me! A new low!

Today saw more fishing and by the end of it I was casting that spinner superbly. I have not fished as well since Tom Carter and I caught nothing in the lakes of Fawsley in 1976. Naturally I caught not a single sea trout but my technique was superb. and all that climbing over rocks and across the bogs of the next door island must have burned stacks of calories. It must have been a good day and to make it even better I discover that my father is now out of Hospital and seems in good form.

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About Tom Winnifrith
Tom Winnifrith is the editor of When he is not harvesting olives in Greece, he is (planning to) raise goats in Wales.
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