The Fish Trap

My godparents lived at the foot of the hill, on the harbour. All the neighbours had manicured formal gardens, not this house, it had a jungle! After walking through darkest Africa we reached the lawn by the boatsheds. Barbeques and boat launching were the Sunday games. At some point in the afternoon a group would row the middle of the harbour, find the tiny float and haul up the line to the chicken wire fish trap. Barbequed leatherjackets, yum!