Bad Fish Mother

Well, at least they are not dead. And being a bad fish mother is better than being a good fish wife, right? If one is a bad fish wife, does that make one a lovely angel?

So, after another week of wrestling with fish health (although the fishes seem happy and content -- their little dorsal fins aren't droopy), went BACK to PetsFirst (this appears to be a regular part of E's visits to Norwich -- 'Can we go to PetsFirst again and buy various filters and feed and plants and medicine?' I know he looks forward to visiting Sprowston Retail Park so very much.). The special order BioFoam had arrived, and I got some plants and some replacement filters. And some new black rocks. A major problem, though, occurred when attempting to move the plants around later, so that the aquarium looked a little less like the bottom of the lake at Hogwarts. The water shocked the bejeezus out of my submerged hand. E calmly said, 'Oh, it is just the lights. We'll turn them off.' Then he stuck his hand in and shocked himself, too. So, it was the troublesome filter machine (which had just had several £s worth of replacement parts purchased for it).

Filter has now been replaced by a new swish Elite Stingray underwater filter. And I have been assured that the fish were not shocked or traumatised in any way due to their swimming and not touching ground or sides of habitat. But I still feel really guilty.

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Anyway, after this excitement, we went on an outing -- albeit a brief pootle (I have found that my spelling of this word has been incorrect for years... the horror I feel! Instead of being spelt like the canine, it has a 't'. It was used in the Independent Magazine this weekend, and I have chastised myself. So sorry!). As, I was saying: a brief pootle, since Wales was playing England in the rugby test match that afternoon. This sign always makes me chuckle. Who came up with that choice tourist slogan?

Dereham is sort of close by. And I expected there to be an interesting fair at the church hall involving educational handcrafts of the woolen sort. Instead, Dereham was altogether kind of a let-down, except for the lovely church, St. Nicholas's. The church has a square tower attached to it, but this was not strong enough to hold its eight bells. So it built another tower, which is the one on the right in the picture :)

Interestingly, St. Withburga's Well is in the churchyard. The plaque reads:

The Ruins of a Tomb which contained the Remains of WITHBURGA youngeft daughter of ANNAS King of the East Angles who died in A.D. 654. The Abbot and Monks of Ely ftole this precious Relique and tranflated it to Ely Cathedral where it was interred near her three Royal Sifters A.D. 974.

It is said that the well sprung forth when her bones were removed. It makes me kind of laugh in appalled horror that an Abbot and Monks stole her body 300 years after she died.

Sadly, the fair appeared to be cheap tat held together with various adhesives. We did not pay the £1 entry, instead choosing to pootle on towards Yaxham (because it is a funny name and is also on the way to Wymondham).

Wymondham (pronounced wind-umm) is a lovely place with an abbey, which is celebrating its 900th anniversary this year. We just drove through, but it looks like a lovely day trip.

Drove back to Norwich, had burger from the Magdalen Street bridge burger van; E talked to strangers (not unusual); we were invited to an old man's house to watch the rugby; but instead went to The (mostly empty, due to the gorgeous day) Mischief and had a lovely afternoon rest. Clare and Jamie joined us for a bit, but as England was unalterably winning, thought they could manage not to be glued to the rest of the game. I knitted :)

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Sunday -- two eccentric people sat in St. Miles Alley and drank coffee.

Had brilliant idea to go to Wroxham for lunch. Along with about a million other people. For two miles, we didn't get above 5 miles per hour. Please drive slowly.

At lunch, E kindly invited an older couple to sit with us, as we were at a large table and there was nowhere else. We were called 'ducks' very frequently by the lady (this is kind of like, 'Sugar' or 'Love' or 'Darlin' and is maybe common in the Midlands?). She was very cute and said 'duck' kind of like 'doook'. Everyone was entertained by the people renting boats in front of the restaurant deck and trying to alternately park or unpark them with various levels of inaccuracy.