Last night my flatmate and I returned home to find a terrible sight awaiting us. Our fish, Tony, was floating upside down on top of his water, the life gone from him, never to delight us with his swimming again. After the initial screaming, flapping of hands, cries of distress, and searching for a suitable vessel to transfer Tony from his tank to his toilet shaped watery grave, we were left bereft as Tony, the only man in our lives to never have caused us a moment’s distress except for in his passing, disappeared down the drain.
Tony was a fine fish, a stoic survivor of house moves and accidentally polluted water; of occasional, wholly unintentional neglect; of too much sunshine. He swam on when his friends gave up and ate each other; he didn’t complain when his food came a few days late. He asked for little and gave much joy; he was a faithful fish to us. I hope that he enjoyed his time swimming gently in a tank with some plastic plants for company and a view of a suburban living room as his entertainment.
On the plus side, I found out I won the Persephone Week prize for my post last week. The prize is a copy of A London Child of the 1870s and I am just over the moon. It has cheered me up immensely and I am so grateful to both Claire and Verity for awarding it to me. Thank you ladies!