At the current rate of purchase, extrapolating 1 every three days, we should have at least 121 goldfish by this time next year.
In a household which has "done" that pet ownership thing with, in recollected order, a cat (two weeks due to disagreement between feline hairs and my own respiratory system), two dogs, various rodents, stick-insects, sea monkeys and those virtual Tamagotchi things, we were fairly confident that we were off duty and able to lead fairly normal lives. Been there , done that, got the scratch marks on the architraves to prove it (stick insects and sea monkeys cannot be blamed).
It had been fun, especially cavorting about with the much loved hounds, Elsie and Toffy who fitted in with our young family status and lifestyle. Their passing was pretty sad for all. The darkest of moments.
Well, not far off, for me was the close succession of deaths of those electronic fob game thingeys when entrusted to me in my working day by my children whilst they were at school. Not sure they have forgiven me fully for that, even now in their twenties. Well, I will have to redeem myself before grandchildren arrive on the scene in the future. I can change, yes, with a bit of concentration small youngsters should be reasonably safe even without a reboot/reset switch.
Anyways, the goldfish:
The first one was purchased on thursday just passed as one of the required symbolic items to celebrate Iranian New Year (see fridays Blog entitled Norooz 2015).
The festival to mark the first day of Spring is heavy in tradition and symbolism with a goldfish representing New Life.
I had never purchased a fish before, apart that is from an ice encrusted counter at the supermarket or after haggling with an angling friend to offset an otherwise unrewarding 12 hours of sitting on a river bank with rod and tackle.
Being unsure of protocol and procedure I just wandered into a local Pet Store and said out loud to the assistants my intention.
I thought the process would be as easy as that but evidently live animals are not given out willy nilly without a bit of a lecture. I suppose it is all to do with consciousness, soul and spirit, respect for God's creatures and all that.
There followed twenty questions on the suitability of my house, proposed location for a fish, my income, political affiliations, religious convictions and whether I had a criminal record, well, at least the first two on the list.
The price of a goldfish was not displayed but being a newbie to aquarianism or whatever it is called I could buy a starter kit of plastic bowl with decorative gravel, droopy plastic plant, water treatment solution and a tub of granular food for £16.99. On this deal the fish came free. It was an offer too good to miss. Once on the hook (!!) I was shown through to the section of the shop with a huge wall of bubbling, brightly lit tanks.
I felt that I was rather whisked past the expensive looking tropical specimens, obviously reserved for the more discerning customers and made to stand in front of the, by comparison, cheap and cheerful, goldfish display.
The assistant revealed this was her first day at the shop and she was a bit nervous about dipping the small net into the congested tank. This was justified as the contents, numbering around 50 , scattered in a well practiced manoeuvre to thwart any attempt to diminish their group. She did ask if I had a preference but I thought if I chose a specific fish then we might be there a long time.
Random trawling netted a plumpish example which showed a bit of annoyance at being placed in a fairground type plastic bag and was no less active as I walked out of the shop to the car.
In my self congratulatory mood over completing this particular challenge I did not recall any of the parting guidance on how to set up the bowl, put the water in and importantly what to do with the collection of chemicals provided in the special offer. I was not even sure how to transfer the goldfish from the temporary bag.
Peering at each other through the polythene was our first real introduction.
At that stage ,un-named, the fish looked, well, a bit unsymmetrical. The one good eye blinked pitifully at me, the other just a pale, insipid looking blob. It was a faulty fish.
In any other consumer situation I suppose that I could have returned my purchase and exchanged it for a non-faulty one but there seemed to be an understanding between us at that moment which put that thought out of my mind.
Back home the family gathered around to welcome the goldfish.
Three of the four of us offered a name but we agreed to disagree on final choice and so three names it was.
In reverse order of originality, Goldie, Auric (as in the Christian name of the Bond villain Goldfinger) and Fesgely (snowy in Persian).
I don't suppose that goldfish answer to name and so this would not be as confusing as it could be.
After a couple of hours the fish appeared healthy and happy which meant that I had, more by luck than judgement, got the chemical cocktail to treat the chlorinated tap water in the correct proportions.
Close up, but this time through the distorting effect of the plastic bowl , Goldie Auric Fesgely mouthed what I thought was "thank-you". I felt powerful but in a benevolent way.
Within two days I was again in the the pet shop and returned with another goldfish, (true non-special offer single purchase price £1.69) and a miniature piece of classical architecture with which to grace the newly formed kingdom. And so the aquarium began to take shape...............................................
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