Best £140 I ever spent, the fishies. They might not be in the right place next to the TV with their noisy filter, but I’ve spent much more time watching them than the telly so it’s fine.
The weather loach is still my favourite. He’s busy and friendly. Most of the other fish run away when something new like an arm goes into the tank. He is right on it, nibbling for dead skin or scraps. Lou named him remotely. Chipolata. Then there are two very old angel fish who survived the transfer. I don’t hold out much hope that they’ll last much longer, so I’m calling them Maureen and Sadie after a pair of older women who sometimes used to babysit when I was a littl’un, and died when I was young. The rest currently have temporary names as I get to know them better. I had my first casualty just before bed last night. One of the older, as yet nameless black widows was rolling in the current as I went to switch the lights off. I netted it and flushed it. Maybe it’ll revive and become king of the sewers…
This is a mature tank of fish. None of them are young. They’re all pretty relaxed and they aren’t being territorial – there’s no fighting. The widow likely died of old age, perhaps accelerated a little by the stress of the move. But they’ve been here a few days now and the tank has found equilibrium. I’d be surprised if any more went. The rest can join Hex in keeping me company in these unusual days. Still lots of them.
I’ve been sad today, despite the fish to cheer me up. I’ve been paying attention to the obstructions instead of the ways around them. It’s the last day before the Solstice though, and the longest night of the year coming up. By the time you read this we’ll be over the hill. I’ve likely been picking up on the persistent darkness, and spongeing up the sadness of others. There’s a lot of grief still bouncing around, and I keep witnessing little rage flashes, which I might have reflected the other day as well when I shouted at the van hire man.
I was trying to have a relaxed time today but I ended up writing lots of difficult emails. A man in Jersey who needs to do very little in order to help my brother and I massively is using Brexit as his latest delaying tactic. He thinks there’ll be a positive outcome still. He’s waiting for the “Brexit bump”. I don’t want him to wait because I’m nervous there won’t be one. So I wrote lots of emails and now I’m pulling that little bit of anxiety out, I’m letting my body and my mind relax, and I’m tuning in to the fishies as they go about their odd existence.
A few hours to go before bedtime and, despite the emails I’ve still managed to achieve spectacularly little which is a nice change of pace. Solstice tomorrow so I might allow a continuance of the lack of work and just have a lovely day on purpose with all the positive energy I can muster. The light is coming back, lovelies. Here we go.