A Fishy Business

Today, I
emerged from the duvet-realm a mere eleven hours after my retreat there; not
exactly bright-eyed and bushy tailed but, feeling more welcome than I did in
yesterday’s mid-morning mist-laden gloom.

Helen and I
ventured down to Open
Church for coffee and a
chat with some of the regulars then managed a fairly brisk stroll home.
Immediately, on return home, Helen popped a couple of baking potatoes in the
oven, leaving preparation of the topping to the chef (yours truly) an hour or
so later. The topping comprised spiced char-grilled trout with griddled peppers,
mushrooms and cherry tomatoes. As preparations were under way, a sudden
startled shriek from my beloved in its turn tremorred me, an unexpected silent
opening of the kitchen door was the prompt for this alarm; Beth had arrived
with her sole surviving goldfish, her aquarium and its accoutrements for us to
decide its fate.

A further
tremor inducing moment occurred as a spice jar took a small tumble; the inappropriate response syndrome reared its ugly
head once more.

Not wanting
to risk the lives of our White Cloud Minnows decided me against transferring the
goldfish into our main aquarium and, the time of year put me off releasing the
goldfish into the pond where it would have plenty of company. Having scalded
the gravel and the base aeration plate, I set myself the task of replanting
Beth’s aquarium which has now found a roost in the kitchen. I’m currently considering
the purchase of a small Fantail as companion to ‘Jimmy’ (an impromptu name
granted to the new piscine member of our family).

Other
disruptive events of the day have been recorded on The Word of
Sinna Luvva
.

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