All Washed Up

To the waters…

t is, of course, a metaphor for life itself, man…

The small fry, always being hounded, and herded, and ultimately used up and discarded by the big noises.

Yep, it rarely pays to be a little fish in a big pond. Sooner or later, you’re going to be food or fodder.

And find yourself washed up on the shore after a fruitless chase.

Popped this image up on our Facebook page earlier today, to see if any of the oul’ fishermen and fisherwomen of the town could tell us exactly what went down here. 

Aisling Carroll reckons the mackerel chased them in, pointing out too that she had met one enterprising young man who had bagged up a load for that evening’s dinner. Barry Kehoe says they’re sprat, ‘caught by the receding tide after being chased onto the beach by predators; either mackerel or pollock’. Noted wit Paddy Keogh quipped, ‘I’d say there dead haha’, whilst comic genius Dan Cruickshank zinged, ‘Probably these fish who were wrecking up the town last night‘.

The winter evenings must just fly.

Apparently, the same scene has played out in Kilcoole and Brittas Bay in recent days, but still, it’s a melancholic sight as you hit The Cove for that much-needed jolt to the soul.

As always, it’s important to look on the bright side in the face of death. Just ask Kim Shanley, who commented, ‘Looks like whitebait. Deep fried with salt & pepper mmmm’…