You could write what little I learned at school about maths on the back of a cigarette packet, but one thing I do recall being taught about was sets. I was never quite sure what sets had to do with numbers or arithmetic (I never progressed as far as algebra, trigonometry or complex equations) but I do remember that sets were displayed pictorially in Venn diagrams, and the overlap between sets was called an "intersection." I spent last weekend inhabiting what would have been one such intersection if my life and passions were described in terms of a Venn diagram.
My Twitter biography (I refuse to indulge the ego of the narcissist who designed those overpriced electric cars by referring to said social media platform as "X") attests to the fact that my passions are faith, family, football and fishing. I could have added travel, literature and single malt whiskies to the list, but to do so would have compromised its pleasingly alliterative character, and so I chose not to! Anyway, the weekend brought together three of the four (faith, family and fishing) as I attended the eighth annual camping Retreat of the Christian Anglers group to which I belong.
The excellent Purple Badger campsite in Leicestershire was once again the base for our weekend's escapades which, as is always the case, comprised of a mix of fishing, plentiful food (mostly of the high protein/high carbohydrate type generally preferred by anglers!) and times of talking and reflecting together on our different experiences of our shared Christian faith. These accounted for the fishing and faith aspects, with the intersection completed by the presence throughout the weekend of my brother and nephew, and my son joining us for breakfast and to fish on the Saturday.
After a hearty breakfast (cooked for us by Mark, the owner of the campsite) we travelled to a commercial style fishery about half an hour's drive from our base which offered the opprotunity to fish in a variety of styles, so accounting for both those who derive their pleasure by sitting behing matching rods and bite alarms as well as those who favour fishing the float, or (in a couple of cases) utilising a pole. With the exception of one inclement half hour in which the rain hammered down malevolantly with violent vigour , the elements were in benign mood, and although the carp weren't prolific, most anglers managed at least one carp and not a single angler suffered the ignomony of a blank.
I shared a swim with my son and we each put out a carp rod and allowed it to "fish itself" while enjoying catching an almost relentless stream of smaller fish on the float. In the event we each ended up with a brace of carp to show for our efforts, my son landing the largest of them. Both of his were caught on dedicated carp tackle, while I was pleased that one of mine came on a float and centre-pin. We even managed a "double hook-up" with both fish being landed within seconds of each other.
Around the lake others were also bringing carp to the bank, and there was an air of casual enjoyment as rods were wound in from time to time to enable anglers to walk the bank and renew acquaintances with friends, one or two of whom hadn't seen each other since last year's Retreat.
With the angling itch temporarily scratched, we returned to camp and spent some time talking in the sunshine about how life was going for each of us, where we are seeing God active in the ups and downs of our daily lives, and what we felt we were learning in it all. I realise that the majority of regular readers of this blog may find thoughts of such conversation amongst a bunch of anglers unfamiliar or strange, but for most of those of us attending the Retreat our faith is of even more importance to us than our fishing, and the single biggest aspect of our personal identity.
Two of our cherished Saturday night traditions are the barbecue, always presided over by chief cook and bottle washer, Pete, and the bonfire that follows it as evening gives way to night and darkness draws in.
Sunday, as has also become a regular ritual, began with a rustic service of Holy Communion in the open air, before we fished the lake on the campsite. Here the predominant species are some fine quality and beautifully coloured roach and rudd, although I was equally happy to augment the silver-sided roach and golden rudd with a procession of gudgeon, a fish for which I've had an inordinate fondness ever since childhood angling days.
As is needful for all good things, the weekend had to come to an end, and goodbyes were said and this year's Retreat pronounced by most who attended to be the best so far. We had been fed both physically and spiritually and our angling appetites were also satiated, although doubtless not for long. I drove home happy in the knowledge that three of my four passions (family, fishing and faith) had been brought into proximity and existed for a few hours in a joy inducing intersection - I wonder if there's a way in which we could work in a football match next year? It would certainly add a frisson of danger as a group of mainly aging and arthritic men tried to reclaim the heroic footballing deeds of their long gone and misspent youth!
