The Silence of the Crabs

Today wasn't much better. But in the end, we made it out a little before noon, just in time to miss the postman so we have to go and get the package of Lego from the Post Office anyway.
Ever since Hayling Island, I have wanted to go crabbing and Bud suggested a taster session at Canoe Lake, so Jof took me. We took a bright pink bucket and sourced a faux-bamboo (metal pole with plastic sheath) fishing net, and then I got a go on the caterpillar and the sky-trampoline before we got down to crabbing.
After the first 30 minutes of barren watching, Jof got bored. But it seemed that every other little amateur crabber had buckets of them. One guy's bucket actually overflowed with crabs in a hideous prequel to the upcoming film Crabnado. One guy had a crab that was nine inches across. Several others were of edible size. We had nothing, niet, nada.
A couple of other anglers felt sorry for me and gave me some of their bacon. Cheap ASDA bacon is the de rigueur crab-bait, I wonder how they feel about bacon sandwiches and, more importantly, what you use to catch Jewish crabs.
But then I caught a fish. And gradually, another six fish joined it, and only 1 of them was dead. I had found my niche market, my keyworker skill, my future in marine ecology. I really wanted to take them home but Jof refused, and settled for looking embarrassed on a bus with an fishily aromatic 7 year-old and a bright orange fishing net.
At home the last of the San Pedro cacti were made homeless. We haven't got space for these desert giants (nearly as big as me) and they are off to market today. It took a very long box.
Then Jof abandoned us to go to the pub so supper was a slightly odd affair of burnt sausages with chicken gravy, pilchards and veg, and strawberries. She has had to tell me off, like, 40 times today but I don't mind.