Contributed by Martyn Green Coordinator, Baywater Anglers

Lenny's Narrow Escape

Cast your mind’s eye into the water, through its mirror-like surface on a blazing hot day, past flecks of green drifting idly by as some child’s net is emptied, travelling deeper till you pause beneath the thick, motionless strands of kelp that carpet the floor of this particular pool, clinging tightly to the sandstone boulders that all but smother the few grains of sand at its midst. A tiny current stirs one branch of kelp, allowing one swift glimpse of a deep hole in the rocks. It is this that I want you to watch, gliding silently to its entrance so that you can peer cautiously within. The current stirs again, back and forth in a gentle, rhythmic, motion, till we can see that it is caused by the figure slumped over a bench made of mussels, their shells opening and shutting, gripping tightly to a trellis made of ancient, hardened wood that found its way into the pool a long, long time ago. The figure snores again, and as it does we see a second figure darting forward, a small prawn that lightly tosses a seaweed blanket over the shell of its friend, then retreats into the darkness beyond. For a moment all is still, but then the snores, abruptly, cease. A huge claw rummages over the bench, pausing, then returning with a pair of cracked spectacles which it fastens in front of its eyes. The great body stretches, the segments clicking slightly, but then it whirls swiftly to the entrance, alarmed. You, however, need not be alarmed; at this moment in time you are invisible. It cannot see you, but you can see it perfectly, standing utterly still as it brings itself awake. You are, indeed, in a splendid position to see as a claw reaches forward, idly clicking the switch on a diver’s lamp - lost when the diver tried to reach into this very hole – so that the figure is suddenly, vividly, illuminated. A lobster, but not an ordinary lobster, oh no! This one is huge, with a thick coating of barnacles on a shell otherwise gleaming a deep and lustrous purple. The great claws open and shut idly, a mirror to the creature’s mind, and its antennae softly stroke the walls of its lair, searching for the disturbance that brought it awake. “Lenny!” A smile touches the creature’s mouth, a claw reaching down to untangle the seaweed blanket that has caught beneath his feet. You can almost feel its desire to nod, but instead it smiles and quietly hangs the blanket on a rusty hook driven deep in the wall. “What you doing up so early? You have only just gone to bed!” Prunella, his housekeeper, scowled fiercely upwards, or, at least, did the best impersonation of a scowl that a small prawn could manage. The great lobster smiled. “I am fine, Prunella, I wasn’t very tired to begin with.” He stretched, patting her gently on the back, careful not to crush her beneath the weight of his claw. “I have been dreaming again; dreaming of that curious place beyond the rocks, where I last saw my brother.”

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