Passadoc Gazette – No 176

Fishing stories are almost as many as there are fishermen! Some are a little enchanted, others are pure galejade!

– I screwed a wolf so big that even the Amédée skillet – You know, whoever sells browns in winter on the old port – couldn't have done it all!

And then there are the writers who tell, like Pushkin and the story of the old fisherman and the little golden fish... or Hemingway and The Old Man and the Sea... and Marcel Pagnol who writes in My father's Glory:

One day, Mr. Arnaud, who was a passionate fisherman, had taken a huge line « Snake » He had brought a photograph of his exploit to the school. At that time, a photograph was a remarkable document that perpetuated the memory of childhood, military service, marriage or a trip abroad. Now, on a kind of postcard, Mr. Arnaud had been seen smiling, with his chest curved, a gaule in his left hand, his right arm raised towards the sky, and holding – by the tail – a thorny fish.

At the table, my father described this triumphal painting, and he concluded:
– May he be glad to have taken a nice piece, I will admit it, but be photographed with a fish! What a lack of dignity!

A few paragraphs later, it is said that Joseph could not resist the request of M. the Curé: butt of his shotgun laid down on the ground, the two magnificent tartavels hung at his cartouche, he allowed himself to be photographed!

– Don't move!
I heard a click as loud as a lock, and M. the priest counted: « One, two, three! Thank you! »
[…]
The following Sunday, as Uncle returned from Mass, he drew a yellow envelope out of his pocket.
"There," he said, "from the parish priest."
The whole family ran: the envelope contained three proofs of our photograph.
It was a success: the tartavels were enormous and Joseph shone in all his glory; He showed no surprise or vanity, but the quiet assurance of a blasphemed hunter, at his hundredth time lined with tartavels.