Fishing with Mr. Richardson

All was lost on the last day of the season as the hours finished appropriately in a blank in the company of Mr. J. Richardson.  Snatches of conversation were all that was caught on a remorseless easterly wind.  Not even a mounted sprat wobbled in the margins on an early glass rod from Mr. Ogden Smith's could tempt a Jack.  Soon the talk turned to the properties of Elgood's Double Swan, A1 roadside cafeterias serving good bubble and squeak, forthcoming exhibitions of linocuts and the folly of getting 'cut out' of one's winter thermal canvas lining too early in the year.