Every time I walk across Willeys bridge, by
the Pells, I look into the water, and as often as not I see
a few fair-sized fish. The other day I met an old man on the
bridge. He was peering down into the water.
‘Mullet,’ he said.
There were loads of them. But these fish weren’t there
when I was a kid. I should know. I used to fish here in the
early seventies, and never saw a thing. Except one day a guy
exposed himself to me under the bridge. But I never saw any
On the occasion in question, I was fishing with my friend
Joe, and my line got into a hopeless tangle. There was a guy
fishing under the bridge. I walked over and asked him if he
had any spare line. He pointed to his bag. ‘Go on,’
he said, ‘take what you want.’
I found a spool of line. When I looked up, I noticed that
the guy had opened his flies and seemed to be holding his
I went back up the bank with my line.
Joe said, ‘Are you sure he wasn’t just having
‘Pretty sure,’ I said.
We settled down to our fishing. So did the guy. Nobody caught
anything. We just sat there, staring into the water. If there
had been mullet, we’d have seen them.
Which makes me wonder: why are they here now? WL