The week had already been rather traumatic, a busy week at work was followed by losing my job on Friday and in casualty on Saturday with a badly infected toe, so when my friend wondered if I would like to go fluff chucking (that’s flyfishing for trout, by the way) on a nearby reservoir, I jumped at the chance.
When we got there the wind was blowing very hard, so we looked for some sheltered spots near the bankside. Despite me picking up the technique quite quickly it soon became clear that we should do alternate casting, as Rob had already hooked my FISHINGmagic hat and dumped it in the lake (which proved to be a key factor). As I turned round to see if Rob had finished his turn, a huge gust of wind blew his line across my face just as he cast, and the hook buried in my head. He took a close look and I could see by the look on his face that it was well in.
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We motored back to the jetty and the fisheries manager said it would have to be cut out and that I should go to hospital. And that’s when the fun started.
Now, sitting in the A&E reception with this thing sticking out of my head, I felt a bit of a plonker. The lure did have long pink and white strands, which isn’t shown in the picture as they were snipped off just before the picture was taken and the hook cut out. When I finally sat down in front of the Triage Nurse she said, looking straight at me;
“So, what can we do for you?”.
“Well, I thought that would have been ‘flippin’ obvious,” was my (light hearted) reply.
At this point she burst into hysterical laughter, saying that she and all the receptionists had thought it was some flouncey body piercing, which explained the looks I was getting. It took her a good 15 minutes to get my name and address on the computer, by which time at least 40 people, who were also waiting, were just cracking up!! Imagine this scene, a young lady of about 20, long blonde hair matted with blood and holding a compress to a head wound literally on her knees, laughing so much we thought she was going to be sick!
Anyway, after a six-hour wait and many different doctors and nurses peering round the corner to look, I finally got to see a doctor.
Same reaction. When he calmed himself he questioned why we didn’t just pull it out. After a brief explanation of a barbed hook, he eventually cut it out.
Just to round off a bad weekend that Sunday evening was when the storms occurred. I couldn’t get to pick up my children from my brothers so I set off at 6:00am the following morning. The 40 miles took me 7 1/2 hours!
There is, of course, a moral to this story – wear a hat and glasses when fluff-chucking. I was very close to losing an eye.
