There are some days that seem calm. I don't know why - as much as any other day people are working and moving about but the atmosphere feels quieter. It is probably just a random impression, based on who you see rather than an objective observation, but today felt relaxed. The air was still and there was no bustle. Along the canal people walked or gently plodded, dogs were being walked and fishermen were waiting.
Fishermen are always waiting. I pass they sit. Some days (like today) I see the attraction of sitting still, calmly taking in the air, yet being alert to the movement of fish. It is an exercise in quiet attention. But I have absolutely no desire to do it.
I went fishing a few times when I was about 11 but never showed any aptitude. It was not about the fish though; it was about being with my father. I tagged along with him and two of is friends to some nearby gravel pits and we pretended we knew what we were doing. It was as new to my father as it was to me - an idea of a hobby we could do together.
It worked for a time but it didn't last. Nevertheless I have fond memories, which are revived when I pass fishermen by the canal.
No wonder walking is good for your memory. There are always associations, always cues.
(I suppose I ought to have illustrated this post with a picture of one of the fishermen - but I did not take one. Instead it is of a canal boat from behind the veil of a weeping willow)
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