Jack and Me

[piscatus absentis]

I only see Jack two or three times a year;  I'm okay after I pass Dingwall but the A9 to Inverness with maniacs driving at more than fifty terrifies me.  On the way up I usually stop off at Tesco in Inverness for a couple of bottles of decent whisky and a few dozen beer just in case he has run out ? it's a tradition and the friendly thing to do.  I never let him know when I'm coming ? I just turn up and know that I'll be welcome and will have bed and board for as long as I want.  It's that sort of friendship.  I should mention that he's married and Jeannie is a more than tolerant darling.

So, last time I arrived on a Wednesday afternoon.  We had a bit of a crack and a few beers before dinner, a bottle or two of wine during dinner and a fair few glasses later.  I'm not sure when we turned in but I do know that we agreed to give the loch a bashing on Thursday.

Sometime around mid-morning we wandered down to the loch, got our tackle together and pushed the boat out.  It was a glorious day, the sun was splitting the trees.  We decided to have something to eat while we waited for a ripple and were shocked to find that we'd lifted the wrong bag.  Instead of Jeannie's sandwiches and tea we had picked up a bag with a bottle of whisky, about a dozen export, four packets of cheese and onion crisps and a jumbo bag of dry roasted peanuts.  Now we didn't see this as a problem since we were well full from the night before and weren't planning to be out too long so we simply had a couple of swigs each and a can of beer while we waited for the wind ? at least we were clear of the midges.

Well into the afternoon there was still no sign of a breeze so we just contented ourselves with the odd swig and can of beer and did some bird watching.  Sometime later there was a wee sign of wind so we decided to beach the boat for a call of nature before the fish started to move.  For safety's sake we took the drink ashore with us.   We did what was necessary and sat down to have another swig or two, just to give the fish time to start feeding seriously.

I lay back to rest my eyes and had just closed them when Jack hissed at me, ?there's a man with a gun just along from us and I think he's a russian?.  ?Ach, don't be daft?, I said, and tried to make myself comfortable.  ?I'm telling you ? he's a bloody russian soldier?.  And you know ? he was right.  There was a russian commando with a machine gun just ten yards from us.  Give Jack top marks for initiative ? he waved a can of export at the man who came down and sat beside us.  He took of his helmet and as he was opening the can Jack banged him on the head with his priest ? actually a table leg.  We tied him up with the line from a spare reel, gagged him with a rag and dumped him behind some whins and then had another swig.

Right about then another one appeared and fell for the same trick ? two russians with one can.  He finished up behind the whins as well but we had to waste a spool of nylon to tie him.

Then all hell broke loose.  I can remember a helicopter, some boats and, it seemed like, half the H.L.I. and twenty guys in multi-coloured anoraks.  I think the combination of whisky, export and dry roasted peanuts got the better of me then for I can't recall anything else until I woke up in hospital with Jack next to me, in a private ward with two big policemen outside the door.

It was a day or two before we finally knew what had happened.  The boat had somehow floated away down the loch and someone had seen it and put two and two together to make a transcendental number before 'phoning the mountain rescue.  The British and Russian armies were on a joint exercise and had lost a couple of the russians and could we tell them if we had seen them.  Apparently they were  not to well when they were finally rescued but our boys seemed to find it a bit of a giggle.

It was agreed that the matter would never be discussed again and we would keep our mouths closed.  We were invited to a formal regimental dinner with as much drink as we could manage although we  couldn't keep up with the soldier boys, in fact we had to be driven home again.  The Russian commando manual has been amended to the effect that if they ever come across two drunken scots fishermen they have to shoot them out of hand whatever the consequences may be.

Oh, and Jack and I still go fishing now and then but Jeannie makes sure we don't take the wrong bag. 

[Wildfisher]

 :biglaugh;

[jimmyw]

Fantastic.