The goldfish has moved to a bigger place…
The goldfish in question has been in the family for at least six years, outliving its partner by three years, but it had to go; it had outgrown its home.
This is in stark contrast to the social worker whose I met earlier in the week, he told his story of buying his current home based on the possible future proof-ness so that he can live out his days there, he is only in his late thirties and has no intention of moving again.
Personally I have had two houses, with two ex’s, and I never felt that that was where I would live out my days, it was more of a – I’m here for now. It turned out the relationships where of the same ilk, the others never got to that stage. My current housing situation is the same now.
So have I reached a place of mind that looks forward to setting ‘roots’? No, if anything the urge to constantly move is the strongest, except for a caravan by the sea at Criccieth. Here the scenery moves whilst I stand still.
I don’t know if it’s not knowing who “I” am or where one is heading that leaves the restless feeling or not, but I have heard that if you travel far enough you will eventually meet yourself coming the other way.
As for the old home of the goldfish, the water in the tank has been 75% changed, plant substrate added, gravel reused, a new filter and plants added. Next week when my son has his sleep-over we will fetch a couple of shrimps, then a couple more the fortnight after. In five weeks time there should be a small lawn in the tank and we will fetch some fish, a small shoal of minnows I think, or platties.
The tank looks good with the plants in, but empty. I have missed the sound of gravel being spat at the glass for a meal, or the large splashing if that did not work, returning to the top right corner to stare me out until I got the message.
Yeh, my fish talked to me.
So much for the 30 second memory theory.