I had a fishing net. It was one of those cheap ones, on a long bamboo stick. It only cost 50p, but it was exactly the kind of net you’d want if you were a boy who had recently turned nine years old, and that’s exactly what I was. My net was green.
I remember that my brother had a red one, but I thought there was more chance of the green blending in with the algae and seaweed in the many rock pools along the coast. More chance of sneaking up on the interesting creatures that might be in there, and maybe catching a few. My brother was only five-and-a-half, so it’s understandable that this sophisticated thought was mine alone.