A Public Service Announcement

August 5, 2011

As part of this blog’s public service commitment to educating the public about how much freezer space signficant fractions of whole animals take up, I can now report that this much fish:


translates into this much smoked salmon:

Although I don’t think it’s going to be cluttering up the place for long…


One that didn’t Get Away

July 25, 2011

‘Go look in the fridge’ the other half said when I got back from a hard* day taking disadvantaged kiddies out.

I looked in the fridge. ‘Eek!’ I said.


There are perks, it turns out, to volunteering to do the books for the local inshore rescue service. And this is one that definitely won’t be getting put back.

Still, 14 pounds of salmon is a lot of fish, rather too much fish for our fridge, so it will be off to the smoke house tomorrow to get turned into smoked salmon. Which will be something of a relief because I still find myself going eek! everytime I unwarily open the door…

*not really. It was a sunny day at a farm park where the ‘farm’ part was entirely incidental but the various slides, bouncing things and go-karts were great fun. Well, I enjoyed them, anyway, and I’m sure the disadvantaged kiddies did too


What’s that Got to do with the Price of Fish?

February 21, 2011

‘Oh look it’s full of lovely Scottish notes,’ I heard a ringing English voice cry as I walked past the bank in Notso Bigtown this afternoon. I don’t know quite what she expected to come out of a Scottish cashpoint – haggis? whisky? English money? – but at least she was happy about it. Usually I end up stuck behind some English visitor in the Notso Bigtown Tesco asking a suddenly sullen checkout girl if their change could be in English notes instead.

Anyway, it’s one more sign, if signs were needed, that spring, summer and prime tourist baiting season is on its way.

In other news, can anyone explain why it’s not possible to buy fish on a Monday? Is this a local thing or the sort of thing that everybody except me knows? I went into the combined greengrocers and fishmongers expecting the woman there to be able to mong me some fish and she just looked at me as if I was the sort of wet-behind-the-ears tourist who could be found exclaiming excitedly at the quaint and charming Scottish money. I keep thinking I’ve got the hang of it here, and then I’m reminded I haven’t.


Another One that Got Away

November 2, 2009

Things you expect to see in a field: sheep, cows, a farmer, grass …

Things you don’t expect to see in a field:
fish_out_of_water

A large fish. A brown trout, to be precise.

Some context may be helpful here. It had started raining last evening, it had rained more or less all night, and all morning and it was still raining, albeit more lightly. Having been stuck in the house for most of this, I was out with a stick poking at the drains to clear the flooding on the road, which is my new favourite hobby (it’s the giant slurping plughole noise, I think). Having just cleared out the worst of the blockages, I looked into the field on the downhill side of the road and saw the fish.

My second thought (my first thought was ‘must blog this’) was to get someone else to come and see. The other half was out – and very miffed when he got back to discover that he could have had trout instead of leek and cheese pie for his supper – so I went up to the big house to get our landlady. She instantly recognised it as one of her fish (well, you would, wouldn’t you) escaped from the ponds in the grounds and which had presumably been swimming around happily in the road* until I came along with my interfering town ways. We got a bucket and scooped up Barry (the Brown Trout), as I shall not be naming him, and returned him to the pond with a cry of ‘be free, Barry, be free!’ whereupon he lay on his side gasping pathetically. It was never like this on Flipper, I tell you. I waded out and pushed him free of the weed and into deeper water and after a while he righted himself and swam away to our relief. Sadly, Barry, shall now probably be hooked out of the pond at the earliest opportunity by the son of the house – country folk haven’t a sentimental bone in their bodies – but I will have done my best.

Anyway, what with the airborne slugs, and land-based fish, it’s probably lucking we’re heading east for a week now. Lord knows what tomorrow would have had in store…

*Imagine explaining that one to the fishing police if you’d run it over…