{"id":278,"date":"2019-02-25T09:50:49","date_gmt":"2019-02-25T09:50:49","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/blogs.ncl.ac.uk\/bridges\/?p=278"},"modified":"2019-02-25T10:11:38","modified_gmt":"2019-02-25T10:11:38","slug":"natalie-nera","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/blogs.ncl.ac.uk\/bridges\/2019\/02\/25\/natalie-nera\/","title":{"rendered":"Natalie Nera"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"\"

Photo by Natalie Nera<\/p><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

A Boat Trip<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I am going to catch a fish.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s goin\u2019 to be a big fish \u2018cause I\u2019m a big boy. I better catch two fishes. Or maybe three. We are six at home, we need six fishes. I can count to ten.<\/p>\n

My Grandpa\u2019s goin\u2019 to take me in his boat. The boat has an engine. The engine is broken. Grandpa is standing in the garden. He\u2019s trying to fix it \u2018cause we can\u2019t go without it.<\/p>\n

And then it rains so we can\u2019t go out anyways, and Grandpa has to stop repairing.<\/p>\n

I watch TV, I like the film about sharks. I love sharks. I don\u2019t think they are scary. The whale shark is real big. My fish is not going to be big like a whale shark.<\/p>\n

Grandpa never hugs me. He says hugging is for girls. Real men bond over fishing. Real men don\u2019t cry either. \u201cNow, don\u2019t disappoint me, young man,\u201d says Grandpa.<\/p>\n

Mummy says bonding is like love. I know love. I love mummy. I love daddy but I think Grandpa does not want love. He wants bond<\/em>.<\/p>\n

I hug my mummy. It doesn\u2019t count \u2018cause she\u2019s a girl. I don\u2019t tell my Grandpa that I sometimes cry \u2018cause it hurts and \u2018cause I\u2019m scared of monsters.<\/p>\n

Grandpa talks \u2018bout fishes a lot. He catches them all the time. He tells mum and dad he will take me fishing now I\u2019m not a baby more<\/em>. They bought me a rod and net for Christmas.<\/p>\n

The rod is too big for me \u2018cause it\u2019s for bigger boys. My wellies are grey with scratches. I put them on the wrong feet. Mummy tells me off. I always make that mistake, somehow the wrong feet seem right. Mummy never gets it. Maybe, it\u2019s \u2018cause she\u2019s a girl.<\/p>\n

The sun is shining. Mummy smells of oranges she\u2019s just peeled for me. She\u2019s had a piece from me. I like sharing with mummy. I like brushing her long hair. Her hair and brush make electric city<\/em> but it can\u2019t make the bulb light, just tiny sparks.<\/p>\n

Dad is coming with us. That\u2019s good. We are three men now. We are going to catch the fish. The engine is still not working. Dad is going to row.<\/p>\n

The wind is cold and it starts to rain again. I hold the bench in the boat with both of my hands. My Dad says I am safe \u2018cause I have a life vest. I don\u2019t like it. It\u2019s scratchy and itchy and bright yellow and I\u2019ve to keep it on. The sea is dangerous, Dad says.<\/p>\n

I like the sea. I like the waves. They\u2019re not dangerous if the fishes like living in them. We stop. Dad doesn\u2019t row any more. Grandpa tells me to be quiet and patient. I am. I wriggle on the spot. My fingers are cold. I want to wee.<\/p>\n

We wait. No fish. Grandpa says to wait some more. I say how long. Grandpa tells my Dad:<\/p>\n

\u201cI told you he\u2019s too young.\u201d He means me. I\u2019m a big boy. I bite my lip and sit on my hands. They get a bit warmer under my bottom. I laugh out loud. \u2018Bottom\u2019 is a funny word. I imagine drawing it and colouring it green. A green bottom is even funnier.<\/p>\n

\u201cShshsh\u2026,\u201d says Grandpa. I am not laughing more.<\/p>\n

\u201cPerhaps we should try another place,\u201d says Dad. He rows some more. He stops but the rain is not stopping. I am quite wet but I have not wetted myself. I\u2019m a big boy. I can hold a bit longer.<\/p>\n

Still no fishes.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s lucky it\u2019s raining so hard \u2018cause I\u2019m crying now. I don\u2019t think Grandpa has noticed. It hurts. I want the fishes so bad, it hurts inside. If there\u2019s no fish, why fishes don\u2019t want to come? Daddy is looking at me.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s all right, Jimmy, sometimes things don\u2019t work out. Perhaps next time.\u201d<\/p>\n

I run into daddy\u2019s arms, the boat rocks side to side, we nearly fall out. I bury my head in his chest and let the tears roll down. It hurts so much I can\u2019t stop them. I wanted fishes. If I don\u2019t get fishes, I can never be happy again.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t worry. We will try again tomorrow. Keep trying, that\u2019s what\u2019s important.\u201d<\/p>\n

He hugs me tight. Daddy smells of Daddy, bacon and eggs with coffee, bitter and salty, his jumper tastes of salt, too. I take out loose strands of wool from my mouth.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd we enjoyed the adventure. Together. Us, three boys,\u201d he smiles.<\/p>\n

But I am not enjoying anything. I am cold, I am wet, I want to wee and we don\u2019t have fishes. I turn my head, Grandpa is looking away. I don\u2019t think he has noticed my tears. I am relieved.<\/p>\n

Grandpa still looks out to the sea. The waves are quite big now. The sky is grey and black.<\/p>\n

\u201cLet\u2019s go back,\u201d he says finally. Daddy grabs the big paddles I know are not called paddles but \u2018ours<\/em>\u2019 and starts rowing. First a circle, then to the shore. I sing the song but I have to be quiet so the song is only in my head.<\/p>\n

I look at the water. I see a shadow. \u201cFish!\u201d I shout and jump. The water is cold. I can feel the warmth of my wee between my legs. I hope it\u2019s OK to wee in the sea and the fishes don\u2019t mind. A hand lifts me up. I am back on the boat. My Daddy is screaming. He is wet, too. He is screaming at me. He never screams at me.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m crying.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut there\u2019s no shark that eats peoples. Basking sharks don\u2019t like peoples,\u201d I sob.<\/p>\n

Daddy is yelling. Dangerous. Drown. Can\u2019t swim. Died. Could.<\/em> Grandpa is pale. He is rowing now.<\/p>\n

Daddy doesn\u2019t understand. I wanted fishes. I\u2019ll never be happy again without them. I\u2019m not scared of the sea. I love sharks. I don\u2019t care. Tears escape from me and I can\u2019t stop them.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m not afraid of the sea. I don\u2019t care.<\/p>\n

Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream, if you see a scary shark, don\u2019t forget to scream.<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Natalie Nera<\/strong> is a pen name of Natalie Dunn, used now for a long time, following her career in journalism. She is originally from Prague but lives with her British husband and two young sons in Northumberland. She is the author of two published novels and editor and co-author of a poetry anthology in her mother tongue. She writes in Czech, English and occasionally translates. Her written work has appeared in Czech, Russian, German, English and Romanian. More information may be found at https:\/\/natalienera.com<\/a>.<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

  A Boat Trip   I am going to catch a fish. It\u2019s goin\u2019 to be a big fish \u2018cause I\u2019m a big boy. I better catch two fishes. Or maybe three. We are six at home, we need six … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":7698,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"gallery","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-278","post","type-post","status-publish","format-gallery","hentry","category-prose","post_format-post-format-gallery"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ncl.ac.uk\/bridges\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/278","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ncl.ac.uk\/bridges\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ncl.ac.uk\/bridges\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ncl.ac.uk\/bridges\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/7698"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ncl.ac.uk\/bridges\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=278"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ncl.ac.uk\/bridges\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/278\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":284,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ncl.ac.uk\/bridges\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/278\/revisions\/284"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ncl.ac.uk\/bridges\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=278"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ncl.ac.uk\/bridges\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=278"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ncl.ac.uk\/bridges\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=278"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}