Big fish, little fish

A certain amount of insomnia is usually to be expected when you’re about to embark on a big life change, but it’s not the move, the renovations, living next door to The Parents or saying goodbye to my town of birth that’s sending my subconscious into overdrive, oh no, it’s fish, yes that’s right fish.

The new house comes complete with a fully stocked pond  – big fish, little fish (but no cardboard box*) and even some pregnant fish. A very nice pond it is too, and a lovely feature…if it were someone else’s responsibility.

The thing is neither The Parents or me have any knowledge of fish beyond the goldfish in a tank I had when I was a kid, and we’re now fearing our cluelessness could lead to unintended neglect. To add to the complications/worry we’re not going to be living in the house for another few months and 200 miles return trips for daily feeding will be a bit hard to squeeze in. Once the builders start they’ve agreed to take over the feeding but I find builders are a bit like a mix between a herd of cats and our railways – impossible to round up, and any little thing can make it “impossible to work today love”

I can’t even take up one friends suggestion of ‘batter them and serve them with chips’ because we’re all vegetarian.

Suggestions on a postcard (or in the comments!) please.


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