Gone fishing

I leave a note for the Fox. "Gone fishing" it reads. I'm off in my Mean Machine, my electric scooter, to the fish shop. I go along the promenade. The views across Morecambe Bay are spectacular. The Lakeland fells have got their snowy white caps on. The wind blowing from them along the Bay can tell you that. I'm glad I've taken my gloves - their first outing this season. At one point I pass a great St Bernard dog, sat on top of the gatepost of his house, looking for all the world like the sort of stone lion you often see on gateposts. I give it a greeting & he slowly turns his head to give me a friendly glance. At the shop I buy a couple of trout. And what better to go with trout than a sauce containing some of the small brown shrimps for which the Bay is famous. I also can't resist some a couple of pots of potted shrimps, a speciality of the area, just as a tasty snack for us some time.

And now I'm off to fillet the fish, ready to cook this evening.