Monday, June 26, 2006
Fishy Drama
When I rose from my floor-mattress this morning, little did I know what drama would unfold by the end of the day. As usual I made my coffee and got ready for work. I was soon to be leaving the house when I realised I had neglected my after-shave, so I went up to my room and splashed some on.
I keep my aftershave on a shelf in my office for handiness mostly and because I was in a hurry I placed the glass bottle of John-Paul Gaultier down on the cabinet next to my aquarium.
I heard a clink as the glass bottle came into contact with the edge of the tank.
I blinked hard as I watched two splits in the glass shoot out from the point of contact, fracturing the aquarium wall. I sounded a full alert and called in to work. "Problem with my tank" I said, in the knowledge that if I didn't act quickly, I could face a house full of water, a destroyed office, electricity problems and of course, a bunch of dead fish.
Luckily the side of the aquarium held until I had reduced the water level quite significantly. I left the wee buggers in 3 inches of water while I contemplated the options. I decided I had to get a new tank for them, or say goodbye to the fish-keeping once and for all.
I had lunch with Gail then headed up Leith Walk. The sun was shining brilliantly and Leith was buzzing with lots of happy people, all blissfully unaware of the dire circumstance unfolding back at the Galbraith Zoo. I bought a replacement tank - just the glass, which was surprisingly cheap - and headed home. I washed it out and left it out on the grass to dry in the sun, while Milly played on the lawn.
By now it was after 1pm and there was no point heading to work. I decided to complete some work on the room, glossing the window frames and giving the walls their second coat. I took the already dismantled bed out into the back garden and sanded the entire thing down ready for painting at a later date. All of this took me until 6 o'clock. Time flies.
After a small dinner of cheese on toast I got to work on the fishes, transferring them to a bucket and swapping out the water, plants, rocks and finally the tank itself. This whole process took me until midnight and as I left the water to settle with the fish back in their home, the tank was still only two thirds full. I'll do the rest tomorrow night. At least they all survived.
All this DIY work has been great fun and very valuable for marital relations, but not so much for my writing exploits. I must try and get Hunting Jack complete by the Thursday. If not all of it, then most of it. I must also get my July column for The Scruffy Dog Review submitted before Thursday and I must see if there is anything more I can do with my GDR to tick things off.
I won't have a full week because on Thursday my annual Blackpool Extravaganza begins. Year number 15 with my old pal Craig.
It's going to be a busy week.
I keep my aftershave on a shelf in my office for handiness mostly and because I was in a hurry I placed the glass bottle of John-Paul Gaultier down on the cabinet next to my aquarium.
I heard a clink as the glass bottle came into contact with the edge of the tank.
I blinked hard as I watched two splits in the glass shoot out from the point of contact, fracturing the aquarium wall. I sounded a full alert and called in to work. "Problem with my tank" I said, in the knowledge that if I didn't act quickly, I could face a house full of water, a destroyed office, electricity problems and of course, a bunch of dead fish.
Luckily the side of the aquarium held until I had reduced the water level quite significantly. I left the wee buggers in 3 inches of water while I contemplated the options. I decided I had to get a new tank for them, or say goodbye to the fish-keeping once and for all.
I had lunch with Gail then headed up Leith Walk. The sun was shining brilliantly and Leith was buzzing with lots of happy people, all blissfully unaware of the dire circumstance unfolding back at the Galbraith Zoo. I bought a replacement tank - just the glass, which was surprisingly cheap - and headed home. I washed it out and left it out on the grass to dry in the sun, while Milly played on the lawn.
By now it was after 1pm and there was no point heading to work. I decided to complete some work on the room, glossing the window frames and giving the walls their second coat. I took the already dismantled bed out into the back garden and sanded the entire thing down ready for painting at a later date. All of this took me until 6 o'clock. Time flies.
After a small dinner of cheese on toast I got to work on the fishes, transferring them to a bucket and swapping out the water, plants, rocks and finally the tank itself. This whole process took me until midnight and as I left the water to settle with the fish back in their home, the tank was still only two thirds full. I'll do the rest tomorrow night. At least they all survived.
All this DIY work has been great fun and very valuable for marital relations, but not so much for my writing exploits. I must try and get Hunting Jack complete by the Thursday. If not all of it, then most of it. I must also get my July column for The Scruffy Dog Review submitted before Thursday and I must see if there is anything more I can do with my GDR to tick things off.
I won't have a full week because on Thursday my annual Blackpool Extravaganza begins. Year number 15 with my old pal Craig.
It's going to be a busy week.
Colin 12:19 pm