Green River.
The caravan park was on the banks of the wide green river, about ten kilometers from the river mouth. The river was broad, green and powerful. It flowed slowly and majestically passed the bank. The two boys approached the old broken down Pont.
They stood on the old ferry's base, where it led into the water. They each had a fishing line with a small hook that was baited with pieces of pilchard. They dropped their lines into the water from the side of the old Pont, and waited. Soon small fish were nibbling at the bait, and they could feel them tug on the line. Then the elder of the two boys caught a small fish.
Soon after that, the younger lad also caught one. They caught a few more small fish as the afternoon passed. After they had five reasonable size fish, they returned to the caravan. They had let all the ones that they had caught, and that were to small for frying, back into the river. They went to fry the five fish.
After the fish were cleaned, their mother helped them to fry the five small fish in a pan. The fish tasted fresh and wholesome when it was done. They ate it all, and almost wished that they had caught more. But tomorrow would be another day, for new adventures.
As the sun set over the valley, the mighty green river flowed by silently, and birdsong echoed from the trees.
The End.
JP Brown 13/05/2006.
