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Fishing: the simple trade
  |  First Published: August 2009



So Tweedledum and Tweedledee were putting in a pool at our place. You’d think that putting a pool in would be easy. Dig a hole, put the pool in, fill it with water.

Not so. It’s very complicated. And when things are complicated, tradies move very slowly, so they don’t make mistakes. That’s what they tell me anyway.

So there they were. Dee and Dum. Moving as quickly as something that doesn’t move very quickly. That is, until I mentioned something about going out fishing that afternoon if all the work got done. There was a sudden blur of motion, and work was finished.

“It’s only 8 am,” I said.

“Yeah,” Dum replies, “we may as well go fishing now because we can’t do any more while we wait for the manifold to repair the pin in the diaphragm of the rocker arm of the fuel pump.”

I shook my head. Sounded complicated.

“And since you’re the boat owner,” Dee says, “you’ll be driving the car and the boat so we can have beers, right?”

“Yeah, fair enough,” I said.

So we pile into the car, complete with chillybin full of cold ones. Then we pile out of the car and hook the boat up, get back in the car complete with chillybin full of cold ones and get on the road.

Fishing around Brisbane is an interesting exercise. It won’t be long until we have traffic lights at busy boating intersections. Stuffer has always wanted to have a mobile beer delivery service down the Gold Coast.

It’s not necessarily a calming exercise, going out on the water in this part of the world. About as calming as something that’s not very calming at all.

But Dum and Dee weren’t worried about boat traffic. They loved it. More people to yell at.

All I had to do was give a rod with a pillie attached to one end, open the esky, and let ‘em go. Easy peesie.

The fishing part wasn’t real flash. Somehow Dee pulled in undersized squire after undersized squire. Dum even landed the odd grinner. That’s Moreton Bay for you.

All in all, it was a good day on the water with two very happy tradies at the end of it.

Like I said, going fishing was the easy part. The hard part was getting them into pool-putting-in-mode the next morning.

“Mate,” I asked Tweedledee, the boss, “looks like you’re pretty slow this morning. Is it the 400 beers you had or hasn’t the manifold repaired the pin in the diaphragm of the rocker arm of the fuel pump?”

Dee looked at me.

“What the hell are you talking about? Geez you talk rubbish.”

I chewed my lip and thought, which isn’t easy for me. Somehow, I was missing something.

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