the angler -
his dreadful intensity
in the evening rain!
Haiku by the poet and painter Yosa Buson, 1716 - 83
Nothing much seems to have changed in a few hundred years so far as fishermen are concerned. It's a miserably wet day with a very low level of light, the sort of English weather that the American writer, Bill Bryson describes as a 'tupperware day.' I'd be a whole lot drier inside a bowl of tupperware, unless I were sharing it with a bowl of soup, of course.
Compared to what is happening in Australia this is just a typically British winter day, and none of the fishermen that I passed on the lakeside were bothered at all. The dog was happy, barking at squirrels and deer beside the woods, but there is no other way to describe me than Misery Murgatroyd when I'm slithering about over muddy ground in the cold and wet. Just get me through January and February and I might be quite human again.