In the literal fish tank, some of the snails’ eggs have hatched and now we have tiny little snails, about the size of ants except with shells and no legs and living in the water. Having named the first eighteen snails Albert, I’m not sure what [...] intends to call these newcomers, if indeed they survive. Meanwhile, there are at least two fry from the three fry that were doing quite well insofar as they hadn’t been eaten yet, that still appear to be prospering. They are solid black now with distinguishable fins. They might yet be on the menu, but here’s hoping.
In the metaphorical fish tank, I went back to the doctors today and had a bit more luck. This time I got both my painkilling drugs upped. My doctor is very good really and a very groovy mountain-climbing motorcyclist to boot (although he doesn’t do both at once – as far as I know). So I’m feeling much more positive about my pain situation, which has been very bad in the last... maybe six weeks it's been worse. So it means more codeine, which makes me dizzy and uncoordinated and grinds my digestive system to a virtual standstill, but I can live with that. Worse things happen at sea, you know? Much worse things. Scurvy. Being attacked by pirates. Losing a limb to a shark or a sea monster. Getting seduced and subsequently drowned by sirens. To name but a few.
Today I am listening to Gary Numan. I absolutely love some of his songs, but most of it is rubbish. Now there's a critical analysis for you.