Running the gauntlet of a long row of fishermen (facing in a westerly direction). Sunday strollers picking their way gingerly through the triangle of ‘sea rod, taut line and wooden jetty’, in addition to the ‘whirr’ and ‘plop’ of legers being flung into the water from a great distance. Entering a world of plastic (paint) buckets filled with mackerel, eels et al…cans of beer, bottles of spirits, cigarettes dangling from mouths, fish guts, overflowing bins, patient partners (and dogs) sitting it out for the day. Anglers on (relative ) terra firma, as their counterparts (fishermen) put to sea.