Hey there, friend. Count your lucky stars – I had a hectic week and was this close (picture a very small distance) to writing an article called “How Not to Write an Article for Tharunka”. It would have been terribly meta and self-indulgent and unfunny – you would have wanted to like it, because you are a nice person, but you would not have liked it, because you are a wise person. It would have been more disappointing than the time your mum replaced normal-sized breakfast croissants with mini-sized breakfast croissants because they were on special at Aldi (“Am I mini-human?” you thought bitterly as you spread honey across the drastically reduced surface area).
But fear not: That’s not the path I went down. Prepare to learn how to wind down, lighten up and cast out. So set aside a few hours in your schedule, slather on some sunscreen, and put on your favourite pair of shorts (my favourite pair are the ones patterned with bananas and pineapples and green hand-shaped leaves that I got for $2.50 at Katoomba Vinnies), because we’re going fishing.
Three simple steps for you today.
Step 1: Find a fishing companion. Don’t call Seth – last time you two went fishing you made a joke about there being “plenty of fish in the sea…LITERALLY”.
“Not true,” he replied. “Our aquatic stocks are dangerously low.”
He then delivered a well-rehearsed speech that included words like “ecology”, “commodification” and “my local Anarcho-Marxist syndicate”. You mumbled something that made it obvious that you are uneducated in the ways of the ocean. It was disastrous.
No, don’t invite Seth. See what Dom is up to instead. Dom is fun.
Step 2: Get a fishing rod. You can get these at Kmart for $6. That, or I have three spares, so just shoot me a text and I’ll hook you up. (Hook you up. Get it? Like a fishing hook. And this is an article about fishing.) Get some bread. Or use those mini-croissants. The fish love it.
Step 3: Go to the harbour. I recommend the wharf at Kirribilli. Tear a little piece off your mini-croissant and squish it onto the tip of your hook. Cast in. Enjoy the harbour, the fish and the good banter with Dom.
“There are plenty of fish in the sea…LITERALLY,” you’ll say as you pull up yet another small, inedible fish, and Dom will tear up with laughter because he is your pal and you are so funny and witty.
On the way home, you will reflect firstly on the multitude of fish you have caught, and secondly, on your great happiness. You will be glad that you read that article in Tharunka by Dylan Chalwell, and you will write to the editors and suggest an appropriate topic for the next instalment.
You will also be glad that you were careful not to actually touch the fish, because they are very smelly, and would have made you smell like them.