On baby fish – part 1

And another one from the draft folder… (late March 2014)


The DB was given an aquarium a few years ago*. He bought 5 different sorts of fish, some lumpy bits of wood and some fish food and has looked after the fish ever since.

Then he met me. He showed me the aquarium and I nodded and said something like, “yes, that is indeed an aquarium, and those are indeed fish”. I couldn’t see the attraction, but hey, each to his own.

As I spent more time at his house, I spent more time looking at the fish. I began to differentiate between them. They were different colours for starters, but they also had different characteristics… No, I wouldn’t’ve believed me either ;).

The fish started noticing each other as fish, and not just colourful obstacles.

In January, I moved in.

The fish, specifically 2 of the discus fish, started laying eggs.

The first few batches – if you can have batches of eggs – were eaten before they could hatch.

The next couple of batches hatched but disappeared while we were painting my flat.

I finally arrived, with all my possessions (although some are in DB’s dad’s cellar), on the 1st of March.

By midday on the 3rd, they’d laid new eggs.

We watched them hatch, left a light on to help their parents look after them. We rejoiced every evening after work when they were still there, exclaiming (loudly) how big they were. It’s astonishing how much a fish can grow in the course of a day.

I was worried that they’d get eaten again, so DB put a wire mesh across the aquarium. It took a couple of attempts, but finally all the ‘wrong’ fish were on one side, leaving the happy fish family on the other.

They’re 3 weeks old now.

It’s amazing how attached you can get to a fish. Or 50.

* like more than 10 years

On my problem with dogs

Dogs are fine. I don’t want one, but I can see the attraction of having it love you devotedly, of going for long walks with it, of snuggling up  with it while reading. In return for those things I could probably put up with the muddy pawprints, with feeding it, with generally looking after it.

My real problem isn’t actually with dogs per se.

My problem is with dogs who are so ridiculously contrary you need a psychology degree to get them to walk with you.


(written on 10th Sept 2015, actually posted on 10th Jan 2017 as part of emptying my draft folder… not sure why not earlier, backdated so as to not confuse things :))