Who came up with this idiotic idea of going fishing? I asked myself furiously as I navigated my way down the Outer Ring road. I was driving the raging Fortuner with four screaming kids, one Burmese maid by the divine name of Sita and one sophisticated fishing rod at the back.
I am an uptown girl. But today I will be the designated 'earth worm hook-er'. Yes, I added the dash in the word 'hook-er' for greater reading clarity.
"But my mom said you knew how to fish Auntie Alena." said Christopher, the oldest child. He was almost 11 years old and was the proud owner of the hot rod (as in fishing rod). "Fishing? What nonsense! I eat fish. But I do not know how to fish!" I said emphatically. I was feeling quite nervous and thinking furiously how I was going to face this earthworm challenge. Taufik was counting on his mommy to rise above it all.
Before I hit the turning to Outer Ring road I caught sight of the Tesco Express signage, without missing a beat I swung in and bought myself a stack of plastic gloves. Voila! I refused to think further. The idea of holding those horrible fat squiggly things...UGH!
The children trooped out of the car and ran excitedly to the fishing hut. We mere mortals settled for a stick and string fishing rod, whilst Christopher flashed his hot rod. No reels please, one less motor-skill-demanding gadget to think about.
I bravely ordered a bucket of stinking old bread crumbs when the children screamed wildly, "Worms! One tray of worms Auntie Alena?" What is wrong with these people I ask you? Aren't bread crumbs good enough? They're fit for the kings of fishes. Humph! Reluctantly I ordered one styrofoam tray of shiny, live earth, and what seems to me - enormous earth worms. What do they feed these monsters?
Take me to the Oriental Hotel's posh French restaurant 'The Normandy' and I will order my food with confidence and even throw in a French accent for great measure. Treat me to a night titled the 'Swinging Sixties' and I will rock and roll till the cows come home with much pizzaz. Bring me to a posh tete-a-tete at an all international ladies lunch and I will not be cowed into silence. But earth worms?
The children waited for me by the pond side with bated breath. Annoying happy expectant looks on their shiny faces. I took a deep breath and rolled up my marine blue fishing pants (I was dressed for the occasion) and squatted down to look, not too endearingly at the earthworms. The slaughter was about to begin.
With gloved hands I picked out one fat squiggly worm with my pinky sticking out daintily. "Me first!" said one. "No me first, Mommy." said my kid (thanks for the support child). "Auntie Alena, can I have an earthworm?" I wanted to scream, "SILENCE!" But I was too busy gagging.
The earthworm wiggled, stretched and curled around my fingers. Yuck. Yuckety Yuck! "Eeeew disgusting." said Natalie. "Yeah Mommy, disgusting." parroted my child. I took the hook and clumsily tried to hook it into the worm's translucent flesh. Slippery as an eel, went the mantra in my head. Slippery as a blardy eel. It wrapped it's tail around my finger when the hook pierced through it's meaty flesh. I twirled it's body and pierced some more. My plastic glove was pierced along with it and I could feel the worm's bodily fluids flow onto my finger, cold and slimy. Oh this is absolutely disgusting!I threw the earthworm down and screamed, "YUUUUUCK!". There were bemused smiles from our helpful fishing peers who were watching curiously the expatriate lady and her plastic gloves.
Four children eyed me somberly. Sita smiled serenely and picked out an earthworm with her barehands. The moment of silence was broken as the children clustered around her. But Natalie stayed put, her hook lying forlornly on the grass with a worm hooked in a half arsed manner.
Oh well...to the wind goes uptown girl...by hook or by crook by the end of this day I was going to be master earthworm hook-er.
I haunched down and started hooking. Soon the expression of disgusts on my face turned into one of leering pleasure. Ooo I enjoyed poking and piercing those things. I twirled and I twirled, then slam I would poke. Yummmy. The children children caught fish after fish, carefree and oblivious to the ongoing wormicide. I became pretty engrossed by the art of hooking an earthworm in the best possible way. Stuffing their one long body onto the hook in a manner that would entice a fish to...so to speak fall for it...'hook, line and sinker'. He he
p.s. Of course nobody told me that I could have sliced those lovely lucscious bodies into smaller pieces for easy hooking. As usual, I was told after the fact.
p.p.s. Am I sounding dangerously like a sadistic serial earthworm killer? Oh how mommyhood has tarnished me.
