#9
Post
by Hornbeam » Tue Dec 01, 2020 12:48 pm
A SHORT STORY
One day, Mr Sawyer was making a nuisance of himself, rummaging through Mrs Sawyer's sewing basket. There were a few cards of darning wool inside. One was bottle green, another black and another navy blue. There was one other, with just a few turns of yarn left on it: a sort of pinky beige that Mrs Sawyer had used years earlier to darn a moth-eaten old cardigan, belonging to her brother-in-law. "Can I have this little bit?" pleaded Mr Sawyer. "Oh, all right", relented Mrs Sawyer, before telling him to bugger off and go and do something useful. That evening, Mr Sawyer was at his tying table in the corner. Using the pinky beige wool he'd earlier nicked from his wife's sewing basket, he tied some rather crude little maggot-shaped 'flies', weighted with some fine, lacquered copper wire that he'd scavenged from a transformer winding from an old broken radio. "Those look a bit shrimpy", he thought to himself. The rest is, of course, fly fishing history.
There really isn't anything particularly special about Chadwicks 477: it just happened to be the right sort of shade from a limited selection available at the time and except for the fact that it was discontinued long ago. The marvel is, that fly tiers have been hunting for the stuff with religious fervour for seventy odd years and paying sometimes quite bonkers money for this material when they do find it!
There is much daftness in fly fishing (not to mention, some pretty daft people). It's probably why I like it.