Ordinary days

Fine weekend with velvet_the_cat and Dan sans lj. I do like Stroud, with its artsy/crafty vibe and its pretty mills and cottages. The stars are brighter on the hills, the air is more clear. Return brought larians his flight to Sweden, and me a pleasant evening with teacher training chum,whose whole world has been turned brighter by his new career. The street is full of Christmas decorations, in fact all of England seems to be clutching desperately for Xmas cheer at the end of a year when people humoured their inner nasty and then wondered why everything around them was so miserable.

Mephistopheles has changed colour, in fact they are both patrolling diligently, so it seems spawning may have happened; but I do not see any eggs. Still, they seem very content by which I mean they have not killed each other or any other fish, so hurrah!

Watched Pilger's 'The Coming War With China,' late last night. Christ almighty.

Rant, no, vent,yes.

So I left the studio a long time ago, but maintain friendships as best I can. I've made some fabulous friends there, and of course, I have had other colleagues who, while not necessarily close, were at least bearable.But cirumstances bring a harsh light to bear on every wart and pimple, and enough is enough. The same bloody idiot who recently tried to claim that the Normans winning the battle of Hastings is proof that GB can never be conquered, has just come out with the statement that London should be wary of Sharia law taking over because Islam 'over-ran' Southern Spain for 500 years which is why it is called Andalucia.

I didn't lose my temper with him,though perhaps I should have done. I set him straight politely enough.  To equate the Nasrid dynasties with some trumped up fantasyphobia Mail/Express bollocks , as though the Alhambra wasn't a superlative creation, as though Sevilla and Cordoba and Granada had cause to regret that extraordinary flowering, is just so breathtaking in its ignorance,I honestly think if this man picks his nose his brain will cave in.

And yes, I blame Brexit. I blame the fecking license given to be stupid and insulting, all right, my outer friends may say, all right, he's a shit-for-brains, but  at least you know he is now; Brexit didn't make him that way, it just gave him a safer option for self revelation. But there's fecking hundreds of them, all talking nonsense that isn't even internally consistent,  legends of the post factual world. It is right and proper that this imbecile farts through his mouth on the same day Trump is nominated Time's Person of the Year. Holy feck. Pilger hints at a coming war; if avoiding it requires foresight, truthfulness, honesty, or anything greater than the ability to stick our heads in the sand and present our buttocks to the setting sun, we are bloody doomed.

Oh No

...Mephisto...

Please don't be dying...

Mephisto

Didn't get much properly done... feel nothing for it. What is wrong with me?

And poor old Mephisto, after looking as though spawning was about to start seriously, suddenly tilted upwards, downwards, sideways, started floating around unhappily. Might be swim bladder disorder,but it looks worse than that - her skin suddenly looked wretched and cracked, she was trying to find grass and rocks to rest against and couldn't, she didn't want to eat - those resident tank peasants, the  platties, started nipping at her skin and face and fins. If she was stressed already, this made it much worse. So I have put a colander in there, its edges touching the surface so that the platties can't follow her in and torment her.  She is lying on her side in the colander, breathing quietly. I have turned the water temp up and the lights off, so she is warm, dark, leaning on something to support her and unharassed. If she dies, she dies in peace and quiet.  And maybe she will live.

 She and Azrael have been so happy.

Right, I am officially turning today off.

RIP Mephisto

I took her out of the colander at the last. She swam to the bottom and Azrael stood guard over her, keeping the others away.

Time to cry.