I left it for twenty-four hours and then e-mailed John. John lives in Sussex and arrives in Wexford on Saturday to fish for bass on the fly for four days. The mail of course informed him of the forecasted weather conditions for his visit, difficult to say the least!

At this time its still only a forecast…….

Giving John the option to cancel and in fact many other people too, is something that I’ve had to get used to over the past few weeks. This is not easy and its very very disappointing for customers who have made commitments and look forward to their days fishing. From a small business point of view its damned bloody difficult.

Getting people from both around the world and from within Ireland to come to Wexford to experience regular quality guided fishing is an exercise in itself, a task that needs constant attention, work and management.

It just doesn’t happen spontaneously!

When customers do arrive the automatic aspects of the job kick into place, guiding, gear, transport, food, location timings…this is what a guide does, no problem!

By default in the middle of June July August or September in Ireland, one should expect ‘reasonable’ weather when the fishery will operate normally to a large extent. In other words with all the other aspects of the job falling into place after months and years of hard work only to be thwarted at the last furlong by something beyond your control is indeed tough.

Other guides worth their mettle and working in Ireland will surely recognise and appreciate this. Realising there’s already enough to deal with at this time, they will already know the reality the extent and the scale of the difficulty of what’s involved!

At this time it doesn’t need to be made even more difficult by anybody playing silly games who doesn’t understand or appreciate that, and I’m not talking about customers here.

So I made a decision this morning, a necessary and now regular one – but John made a braver one, he called me, he’s coming to weather the storm!

Fingers crossed.

In the world of waves curving crashing in to shore breaking white and clean at three feet breaking and falling over and running up and then more slowly back, mixing with others into a place a time a now where you stand to groin depth where you are reduced to simply only how you can fish with what you have, the sweet rain and warm wind forgotten tasting the salty champagne mist on your lips feeling it burning your face and then suddenly all doubts all pointless thoughts worries and anxieties are banished by a fish that takes and runs hard across the shallow surging surf

This is the moment when all is forgotten – all