I broke my golden rule again – DO NOT BLOG AFTER DRINKING. If I try to write while fuelled by alcohol it becomes one of three things: melancholy musings about mans' inhumanity, drunken longings for sexual activity, or a rant about something nonsensical. In a strange way, yesterday's blog was a bit of all three.
Anyway – to business. I have spent today looking into the activity that I hope will become my new hobby. What is it, you cry from all corners of your impatient minds? In a word – GOLDFISH. Yes, I know – it's not exactly a taxing, knowledge-enhancing hobby to pursue, but there's a lot to learn and think about, you get to have a nice relaxing low-maintenance addition to the family and, you know what? I LIKE goldfish. So I've been to our local garden centre, where it turns out the only required ability if you advise customers on fish is to have an IQ lower than the animals you're selling. The guy I spoke to had more studs in his ears than a Nottingham prostitute and probably couldn't spell FISH if you handed him all the letters on a Scrabble board. If that wasn't bad enough, at least three of the tanks I looked in had dead fish floating in them. So I've held back from starting out just yet. I've done my usual over-the-top habit of ordering every available book on fish care from the library, and once I've read those I'll be off to the shop for some shubunkin.
Mmmm, alliteration – the punctuation practice of perfect poets!
RC 17-4-10
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