Memories are strange things and the things that invoke such memories are even stranger.
It was drizzling today; not an uncommon occurrence in Britain in February. High winds and rain are the usual fare for winter veering into spring in this sceptered isle.
For some reason, I know not not which, I had a hankering after slices of melon; perhaps it was a desire for a summer, which might never come. I was immediately transported back into a time in which slices of near ice-cold melon were as gratifying as ice-cold Dutch lager (brewed no doubt elsewhere 'under licence') but without the alcohol; perhaps more suited to 11am than a post-prandial afternoon.
Anyway, I started to remember those mornings on the beach, the soft sands sucking you in like 'quicksand', the hot sun on your face, the sweat under the arms, the thirst. Melons, like cucumbers, are mostly water but sweet not bitter. But melons are big; you have to slice them; they are too big to eat alone, even two would struggle. Cover them in 'cling film' and refrigerate and it's still not the same as the first time that you slice them. Some water evaporates.
So, I usually opted for a smaller melon; a honeydew; ripe, possibly over-ripe, but manageable. We would spoon out the contents of each half, spitting the seeds into the sand. This thought led to the 'lychee man'.
I have only been on one 'exotic' holiday in my life; Mauritius. One rises early, you have to, if you are to beat the Germans desire to have skin baked like coffee beans. Horses must be ridden, especially galloped, before 7am; before they become too 'hot'. So we would have breakfast as soon as it was available; the fruit 'pyramid' was awesome. (But no muesli; shame!) You could even have a 'full English'! So, what are you going to do but hit the beach; at 8:30 or 9:00.
The Lychee Man would hit the beach an hour or two later!
Now, here's the thing. Mauritius is a tropical paradise, no? Well, not quite. In order to paddle in, or go swimming in, the waters close to shore (at shore's edge), one is advised to wear 'jelly sandals', otherwise one is likely to get 'stung' by some nefarious or noxious beastie. A very real threat, I assure you.
We had no 'jelly sandals' and there were none to be had. Not a problem, you might think. However, the Lychee Man's fruit was crawling with ants; they had to be washed off; killed with salt water!
And so, for the first and only time, in my life, I 'stepped up to the plate'! I waded into the water, up to my waist, sans 'jelly sandals', and washed the Lychee Man's fruit and rid them all of those pesky ants! The things we do for love, ay?
Which leads me onto . . . (you can tell how my brain works, ay?)
In such climes, one scarcely ventures out between the hours of twelve and three; too damn hot. And don't, for goodness sake, attempt to play squash unless you want to provoke a heart attack!
Well, we were sitting in one of the hotel's many restaurants, eating our 'croque monsieurs' and drinking our beer, when one of the 'tourist' fishing boats pulled in. A big, burly man (six feet plus and pecs like Schwarzenegger, biceps to match) lurches onto the dock seemingly much the worse for wear. They sat at the table closest to the dock, next to us.
Why, I enquired, would somebody spend so much money hiring a boat, even if South African, just to get drunk? Oh no, his pals replied, he is simply exhausted. He had been 'playing' the marlin/swordfish for over three hours and, just when he thought it 'beat', it leapt out of the water and 'threw the hook'. He was still shaking when we left him at three.
And, as Vonnegut would have it; so it goes.
I was in a fishing tackle shop in Norfolk one day, looking for bait and some hooks; elvers have a tendency to swallow size 24 hooks, and there was a 'little old lady', five feet nothing and limbs like pipe cleaners, looking to buy a rod and a reel for her great grand son. We got talking.
"What's the largest fish you've ever caught?" she asked. Me, I was a fisherman! I had a 29lb pike, a 34lb carp, a 3lb roach, a 4lb perch to my name. I was so full of myself; I was so proud!
She invited me back to her house for a cup of tea; just for friendship's sake. Along the walls of her hallway were photographs of her standing beside marlin, swordfish. porbeagle sharks! "That's what I meant by 'biggest'.
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