the abyss means...

Ah. The fish incident.*

Today seems like a good day to write about it.

So, I was sixteen; full of life, beliefs and determination. I was on holiday with my parents and staying with relatives in their summer house in Øyerhavn on Varaldsøy.

I was attempting to be a vegetarian. It was not working, and had not been working for about a year.

My mother had difficulties with the concept, so we came to an agreement. I could be vegetarian during the week as long as I ate Sunday Lunch and whatever I was given if we were visiting relatives. It was my only option at that age, so I became an off-peak vegetarian.

Which was fine, until that holiday.

...

I had already had the lamb-stew incident**, and was trying to put it behind me, when my parents decided to go trail-line fishing. Mostly for the exercise, I think, as they certainly did not expect to catch anything.

So, I held onto the trailing line while my mother and father rowed around the fjord.

There was a tugging at the line.

"Mum! I think we may have caught something!"
"No. Don't worry, it is probably just caught on a bit of seaweed. You keep hold of it."

Five minutes later:
"Muuuuum. I really don't think it is seaweed!"
"No. It just feels as if there is something on the end, but there isn't really."
"Mum. I really don't like this."
"OK. Let's reel it in so we can see what it is wrong."

So, we reeled in the line.

At the end of the line, there was, a fish.

A real living fish.

A real living fish caught by one of the barbs on the line.

A real living fish, caught through one set of gills, by one of the barbs on the line.

I had had enough. I was a teenage vegetarian and wanted none of this. I watched as my parents tried to deal with it.

They really had not expected to catch anything.

"OK. So we need to lift it into the boat."
"We didn't bring a net."
"OK. So we hope that the line is strong enough."

And so, they did.

The fish was lifted, by the barb through its gills, into the boat. It almost tore, but was just strong enough to get it into the rowing boat.

I was not at all impressed.

In fact, I was appalled.

But worse was to come.

"OK. So we need to kill it quickly."
"We didn't bring a knife."
"OK. I'll find something to hit it with."

I watched as my mother picked up a bottle of Nivea Suntan Cream, and proceeded to bash the fish with it. She hit it with all her strength.

It died quickly. (Whether from lack of oxygen, confusion, damage to its gill, or suntan-cream attack, I cannot say.)

I sat there, in the boat, as I was rowed back to the bay. I could not believe what had just happened.

But, there was the fish and there was my mum and there was the bottle of suntan cream next to her.

...

That evening, we had fish for dinner. I had to eat it. After all, we were visiting relatives, and I did not get a say in the matter.

After staring at it for a long time, I ate.

It was the best tasting fish in the world.

...

Since that day I have never tried to be a vegetarian. I do not have it in me. I just cannot justify it.

I love my mum.
_______________

* Not the one involving fish-heads.

** "Did you like the lamb stew?" "Yes. It was surprisingly nice." "That's because it wasn't lamb." "What?" "It was reindeer. Did you like the reindeer?" "WHAT?" - Or something to that effect.

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Yes, the Rainbow knife looks like a living creature. (after suncream).

boynton on March 2, 2003 11:44 PM