Irish Angler

General Fly Coarse Sea Tackle

“Hello Jim, this is Eric calling from

Belgium. We are coming to sh with youon Monday afternoon in Wexford, myself and Michele, can you tell me how far it is

from Dublin airport?”

This took me by surprise somewhat. The pleasantry almost led me to believe that Ericwas a long lost friend that I had forgotten

about, and his condence convinced me that

somehow I had made myself available to

sh with him and Michele (wife/girlfriend,male friend?) on Monday and then forgotten

about the arrangements.He continued. “How shall we contactyou when we arrive in Wexford to meet

and sh?” Normally I don’t take calls whenI’m up to my chest in estuarine water with

customers. Too many fumbled and droppedmobiles have convinced me to leave themin the car. And the ringing, it bothers peopletoo. Rather than continue the conversationin a confused manner I adopted a tone of complete calm and re-assurance as much

as if Eric and I had been nalising his Irish bass shing plans for the last six months.

By the way, this was Saturday eveningon the last good tide of this cycle, so two

mysterious Belgians arriving on Monday

was going to prove particularly testing. Itold Eric I would ring him back. I liked himimmediately.When I rang him back I determined that

they had already booked their ights, would be arriving in Dublin on Monday lunchtimeand wanted to spend a week y shing

for bass in Wexford with myself, whilststaying in my house. The momentum wasrelentless. Somewhere over the previousfew months they had neglected to tell meof these important details but re-assured

me that they were competent y shersand were looking forward to their rst trip

to Ireland, there would be no problems! Iadvised them that we were heading into a

neap cycle and shing would deteriorate

until possibly the last day of the week, thiswas met with nonchalance, high spirits andsomething about wanting the experience.They would hire their own car and drivefrom the airport to Wexford – easy streetfor me!

I expected them about four o’clock onMonday and asked Eric to ring me when he

arrived in Wexford so I could meet him and

bring him and the mysterious Michele to the

centre.

Four o’clock on Monday afternoon cameand went, and at closer to six I nally got

the call from Eric. He seemed calm and alittle tired after his journey and said he wasin the middle of Wexford outside a wedding

shop called Berry’s. I’ve lived in Wexford

town for a long time and wedding shopswere never high on my radar, so one called

Berry’s was proving elusive to me. I asked

him to describe where he was and things

started to become difcult with the Flemish

accent. I decided to ask my wife Eileen toring Eric, to try to determine where he was,