05-10-2022, 08:12 PM
Simon hated fishing. It was insufferably boring, the same chores and routine every day, the endless wait once the lines had been tossed, the same harbour to return to every day, to stand about with the same unimaginative fishermen who couldn't talk about anything but the same boring chores they were up to and the same dull people they knew and didn't seem to have dreams at all. It was banal, like the rest of his life. Enough to suffocate him when he was perfectly safe in the boat. Sometimes he'd rock the boat a little or tell a crude joke and have his father or uncle shout at him just for the variety. More often he'd use the long wait to daydream about the greater, more thrilling life he was destined for in the big city. He wouldn't do this all his life.
And then, some days, out of nowhere, the dullness was broken by something worse: storm and a rough sea that made him dread that he would die before he could fulfil those dreams. What a waste.
Today it was even worse, for after surviving the waves and reaching the safety of the Staithes harbour, they had been forced to walk for miles through the rain. Simon was cold, sore, hungry, and angry. He hated fishing.
When they reached the yard, he gladly joined Luke in their escape to the warmth of the cottage - only to be stopped by a frantic aunt Mary. He pulled a face when she hugged them. "Matthew's been havin' a cough, aunt," he quickly lied to make her Matthew's problem instead.
When they managed to get in with a generic greeting to the shouting children, he noticed Lory at the table, apparently unaffected. He liked Lory but she could be so stuck up. When he passed her he ruffled her hair and placed his very wet hat on top of her head. Then he took the set of dry clothes that had already been put ready for him. "C'mon," he said to Luke, we can change upstairs." He took the ladder from the corner and placed it against the trap door in the ceiling, that led to the attic where the boys slept.
"Matthew! Stop talking and get changed first!" shouted Hannah. "You'll catch your death!"
As if they hadn't already.
As he climbed up the ladder, he could hear his father explain to his mother that they would need the cobles carted back the Whitby. Never mind the expense. At least they hadn't been wrecked. But of course she would mind the expense.
And then, some days, out of nowhere, the dullness was broken by something worse: storm and a rough sea that made him dread that he would die before he could fulfil those dreams. What a waste.
Today it was even worse, for after surviving the waves and reaching the safety of the Staithes harbour, they had been forced to walk for miles through the rain. Simon was cold, sore, hungry, and angry. He hated fishing.
When they reached the yard, he gladly joined Luke in their escape to the warmth of the cottage - only to be stopped by a frantic aunt Mary. He pulled a face when she hugged them. "Matthew's been havin' a cough, aunt," he quickly lied to make her Matthew's problem instead.
When they managed to get in with a generic greeting to the shouting children, he noticed Lory at the table, apparently unaffected. He liked Lory but she could be so stuck up. When he passed her he ruffled her hair and placed his very wet hat on top of her head. Then he took the set of dry clothes that had already been put ready for him. "C'mon," he said to Luke, we can change upstairs." He took the ladder from the corner and placed it against the trap door in the ceiling, that led to the attic where the boys slept.
"Matthew! Stop talking and get changed first!" shouted Hannah. "You'll catch your death!"
As if they hadn't already.
As he climbed up the ladder, he could hear his father explain to his mother that they would need the cobles carted back the Whitby. Never mind the expense. At least they hadn't been wrecked. But of course she would mind the expense.
