Gingerbread Woman

It's the quiet ones you have to watch

as any paramedic will tell you. Apparently if you're screaming, chances are you'll pull through.

So there I was getting all distracted by Goldie's dramatic non fish face-ness, when actually, t'was (another stunningly titled specimen, who, until his ceremony this morning didn't even merit naming) Silver, I should have kept an eye on.
Goldie is still swimming, Silver's in a bin sack awaiting collection.

My poor decorator, Shane, who I've kmown for at least a decade since he worked for Dad, is being very brave about it all. He doesn't wince or flinch when he turns up for work in the morning to have me do my best 'ignore the bump, pretend I'm sexy' impression as, all pathetically put on girlish helplessness, I hand him the fishing net and send him pondward for yet another carcass removal.

I'm not sure how he'll feel however when I tell him what's in store if Goldie's latest growth treatment fails to work magic. After another trip to fishworld, we've upped the strength of his medicine. I have however been warned that 'chances are love, it won't do a darn thing and you'll have to put him out of his misery'. Fishworld woman softened a little on seeing my face at this news, and, no doubt mistaking me for a fish fettishist, said, 'you never know though, some pull through'. I ventured, half an hour later, after stocking up on pond aloe vera to calm Goldie whilst he starves, to enquire as to the best method of stopping the suffering should it come to that. You'll be gladder than Shane to hear that popping him in a plastic bag and whacking him on the head with a saucepan was the expert recommendation. I haven't broached it with Shane yet, I'm preparing him with little gifts of ice lollies and 'it's so hot, do nip off early' in case I need the credit. On the upside, Goldie and his mates, plus all his accessories are in the local paper so Shane & I are hoping they'll be someone elses problem shortly. On the good news front, it seems that balancing precariously after a good clamber up some slabs of awful faux waterfall and getting elbow deep in waterfall weed, in order to clear the way for the water to fall, has reaped dividends. The goldfish pond appears no longer to be leaking.

The other silver lining in all this is that it gives me a chance to meet the neighbours, who are taking advantage of the lovely weather to relax seaward in their gardens. I'm not doing that partly due to the fact I'm stuck trying to write a paper for a Minister, and partly because my decking is currently a rubble dump. The other upside is that I'm not a 'what will the neighbours think?' woman, or else I'd be seriously concerned that they only see me sixteen times as day as I fly out the back door to stand on the steps and headcount the ponds or adjust the hosepipe.

There is a life beyond the fish, I will be able to blog once they've been flogged, but, I'm too tired to relay it so I'll pray on your knowledge that I may be a woman possessed, but I'll get it back in perspective.

xxx

posted by The Gypsy @ 8:45 pm