Sardine fisherman left high and dry as 'productivity revolution' fails to deliver
The other night, where I am here on holiday, the local village had a huge festival. This involved part of the main square being turned into a massive inferno and once the embers were smouldering local people piled thousands of sardines on top of old iron bed frames, complete with ancient springs. These frames weighed down with fresh fish morphed into possibly the largest barbecue grill imaginable. The sardines were scoffed, washed down with lots of local wine.
The festival marks the passing of the full moon in early August on the Adriatic and the beginning of a period of moonless nights. Traditionally, on moonless nights, the local fishermen headed out, lanterns hanging from their boats and waited for the sardines.
They did this on moonless nights because the moon confuses the sardines.