Fishy

I'm glad to say that weeks of constant nagging have been successful, and Mme Tepeka has finally relented and let us restock the pond with fish. Not, this time, pricey koi, but bargain basement goldfish and the like. So when the herons come and (inevitably) steal them away, our loss will be only emotional rather than financial.

We are, however, repeating the mistake of giving the fish names - just to up the emotional ante. Of the seven new arrivals, three have so far been given names: George II (in honour of the previous George); Bubbles II (in honour of the previous Bubbles); and Marvin (just because it's a cool name for a fish, apparently). I'm not sure which is which, or even how we're supposed to tell the goldfish apart. But I'm certain the girl child knows - or at least thinks she does.

We're celebrating their adoption by watching Eurovision this evening and leaving them to fend for themselves out in the garden. Nature can be so cruel...