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I feel like telling a story. For it we need to rewind nine years. Back then me and my dad used to hang out a fair bit - I was jobless after coming back from travelling across America, and he was at this point permanently signed off sick because of his rapidly deteriorating heart.
One day, my dad turned to me and said "Son, let& #39;s go get a fish tank". I knew my dad never did things by halves by the time I was 21, but considering he had no idea about keeping fish, I was expecting something that would sit nicely on the living room cabinet. How wrong I was.
Six hours, and £3200 later, a 350L saltwater tank, with every bell and whistle money can buy is fully set up in the corner of the living room - crucially - without a single fish inside.
My Dad turns to me, with that maverick glint in his eye, and says "Don& #39;t tell yer mother"
https://abs.twimg.com/emoji/v2/... draggable="false" alt="🤦♂️" title="Mann schlägt sich die Hand vors Gesicht" aria-label="Emoji: Mann schlägt sich die Hand vors Gesicht">
My Dad turns to me, with that maverick glint in his eye, and says "Don& #39;t tell yer mother"
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My mum, for anyone who doesn& #39;t know, is incredibly house proud. She& #39;s a purple and silver "Live, Laugh, Love" kinda lady, and she& #39;s quite content in that bubble.
One step into the house after a long day at work, and we& #39;re greeted with a "What the everloving shit is that?"
One step into the house after a long day at work, and we& #39;re greeted with a "What the everloving shit is that?"
After an hour or so to digest the situation, she is talked into keeping it, on the proviso that the cast of Finding Nemo is put in there, to which my dad happily obliged. After two weeks with no fish (which irked my mum even more) we had clownfish, cleaner shrimp, and yes, Dory.
I think this might have influenced some of my dad& #39;s decision making with some of his more...choice selections too - at one point we had a half meter long sea worm, and an enormous sea slug in there. To say my dad took to this like a fish to water (heh) would be an understatement.
I think in his mind, knowing that he& #39;d be facing the very real possibility of having a full year off from work, that this would be a low energy hobby to keep his mind (I& #39;ve never met someone who wanted to be engaged mentally as much as him in my life) busy whilst he got better.
Unfortunately my dad didn& #39;t get better, and barely a year after he got it, he passed away at an outrageously young 48. In the weeks that passed afterwards, we jostled with what to do with this massive project he was partway through sitting in the corner of the room.
This had been something my dad and I had bonded over so much over the last few months of his life, and my want to at least try and finish what my dad had started won out. Much like my him, I took over the reins, whilst not entirely sure of everything I was doing.
So eight years ago, my dad& #39;s fish tank became my fish tank. I& #39;ve gone through the lot with this thing - moving house, disease absolutely firebombing the livestock, an invasive crab (no, really) eating fish during the night and leaving carcasses for me in the morning.
Through it all though, it& #39;s been sat in the corner of my living room, humming away, doing its thing. I& #39;ve not been anywhere near quite as good as my dad, but I& #39;ve made a fair crack at it
Recently though, things have slowly started to run down and tire out. I don& #39;t seem to have enough hours in the day to give this wonderful little constant in my life the time and care it needs. It needs someone with the attention to detail of my dad.
