Oh dear. An aquarist friend of Paul’s has identified Fin Rot on the backs of some the new fish, and has a gloomy prognosis.
[…] stress is the major cause of fin rot. This could be due to a fish disease such as parasites, or overcrowding, low oxygen levels, bullying, poor water quality etc. The most important first step is to resolve any stressors. If caught early, this may be sufficient.
Hmm. Now the fish are in my care, they’re not overcrowded and the should be enough oxygen. I can work on the water quality. Maybe it’s not such a problem.
Oh, well. At least the mussels don’t have fins.
The highlight of the weekend was a trip up to Hull to see I’m Sorry I haven’t a Clue being recorded the New Theatre. A bit of a strange experience: it’s much slower in real life, presumably because they edit it down to half an hour. Certainly funny, but I actually think I prefer it on the radio. The audience was staggeringly middle-class — I felt out ra-raed when I popped down to the bar at half time for a coffee. A barely teenage girl asked, “Do you think a place like this will do Pimm’s?” (I was uncertain whether she was dissing Hull in general or the New Theatre in specific. Bits of Hull were quite pretty, and the New Theatre was great.) and someone else was complaining that the dry white wine wasn’t dry enough for her tastes. Apparently the shows aren’t to be broadcast until quite late in December. You’ll recognise me as the one person to applaud a move in Mornington Cresc. I really like the episodes where the audience reacts to MC moves with applause, gasps, etc., but my attempt to get that into this show fell flat.
Hull being near Grimsby it was easier to pop to the same friend’s parents we stayed with last week for the night rather than struggling back to Nottingham in the dark. It’s a shame that Paul wasn’t able to come with us this weekend, but his madrigal group had a gig at someone’s wedding.
Paul’s parents popped in briefly this evening on the way somewhere and had a nice cup of tea and a slice of today’s bread, made with Hovis granary flour.
I started drinking the homebrew in earnest. It is nice, but there’s so much CO2 in the pressure barrel that pouring the beer is tricky: you end up with an enormous head, and if you turn the tap on too hard by mistake instead of turning it off, beer all over the cellar floor. I don’t think I’m actually going to be drinking many of these 40 pints…
Getting through the Alias at a rate of knots — now at 2×11. What next?!