OUTSIDE, it’s 47ËšC below and I’m dreaming of the burning-hot bonefish flats of the Turks & Caicos Islands (TCI), where we’re due to land close to tea time. There are certain species that an angler lusts after. For me, wild hill-loch brownies and their spiffy cousins, the sea trout, belong to that category; but facile princeps is the subtropical boney—exquisite and endearing, spooky and athletic even in the smaller sizes and, whether tailing, mudding, flashing or pushing nervous water, my favourite of all angling quarries. I have chased him in more than 10 countries and now, after an enforced abstinence of three years, I was positively consumed with bone fever.
Shakespeare gave his melancholy Jaques that magnificent soliloquy (‘All the world’s a stage’) about The Seven Ages of Man, from puking infant through to second childhood, and I have heard it said there are comparable stages in an angler’s progress (let’s leave out the puking, for now). First comes the impulse to catch anything you can; next, to rack up as many as possible; then the biggest; then the trickiest; and, finally, simply to enjoy fishing whenever the mood takes you. There is said to be one extra stage—deriving as much pleasure from seeing beginners enjoy success as you would from catching fish yourself. But I’d be fibbing if I claimed I had ever experienced that.
هذه القصة مأخوذة من طبعة March 23, 2022 من Country Life UK.
ابدأ النسخة التجريبية المجانية من Magzter GOLD لمدة 7 أيام للوصول إلى آلاف القصص المتميزة المنسقة وأكثر من 9,000 مجلة وصحيفة.
بالفعل مشترك ? تسجيل الدخول
هذه القصة مأخوذة من طبعة March 23, 2022 من Country Life UK.
ابدأ النسخة التجريبية المجانية من Magzter GOLD لمدة 7 أيام للوصول إلى آلاف القصص المتميزة المنسقة وأكثر من 9,000 مجلة وصحيفة.
بالفعل مشترك? تسجيل الدخول
Kitchen garden cook - Apples
'Sweet and crisp, apples are the epitome of autumn flavour'
The original Mr Rochester
Three classic houses in North Yorkshire have come to the market; the owner of one inspired Charlotte Brontë to write Jane Eyre
Get it write
Desks, once akin to instruments of torture for scribes, have become cherished repositories of memories and secrets. Matthew Dennison charts their evolution
'Sloes hath ben my food'
A possible paint for the Picts and a definite culprit in tea fraud, the cheek-suckingly sour sloe's spiritual home is indisputably in gin, says John Wright
Souvenirs of greatness
FOR many years, some large boxes have been stored and forgotten in the dark recesses of the garage. Unpacked last week, the contents turned out to be pots: some, perhaps, nearing a century old—dense terracotta, of interesting provenance.
Plants for plants' sake
The garden at Hergest Croft, Herefordshire The home of Edward Banks The Banks family is synonymous with an extraordinary collection of trees and shrubs, many of which are presents from distinguished friends, garnered over two centuries. Be prepared to be amazed, says Charles Quest-Ritson
Capturing the castle
Seventy years after Christian Dior’s last fashion show in Scotland, the brand returned under creative director Maria Grazia Chiuri for a celebratory event honouring local craftsmanship, the beauty of the land and the Auld Alliance, explains Kim Parker
Nature's own cathedral
Our tallest native tree 'most lovely of all', the stately beech creates a shaded environment that few plants can survive. John Lewis-Stempel ventures into the enchanted woods
All that money could buy
A new book explores the lost riches of London's grand houses. Its author, Steven Brindle, looks at the residences of plutocrats built by the nouveaux riches of the late-Victorian and Edwardian ages
In with the old
Diamonds are meant to sparkle in candlelight, but many now gather dust in jewellery boxes. To wear them today, we may need to reimagine them, as Hetty Lintell discovers with her grandmother's jewellery
