August

[Sweder]

O2 - precious stuff.

Whilst on my travels in la Belle France the pump on my fish pond suffered a catastrophic failure. It transpires the electrical circuit that runs our outdoor lights, pump and various garden-related electrical outlets went down. The good people looking after our menagerie mistook the appearance of the fish at the surface of the pond for sunbathing. It was only when they started to appear belly-up that the alarm was sounded. By the time a new pump was procured and fitted the three largest fish had lost their struggle for air. Goldie, The Bronze and the Mighty Monty are sadly no longer with us. On a happier note the installation of a temporary pump did save the remaining fish and I'm most grateful to Captain Tom and Jenny for their valiant efforts.

I suffered my own oxygen depravation on my return to the hills this morning. The combination of a late start, a warm muggy morning and my first incline of note for two weeks was always going to be a test. Two weeks of close to a hundred kilometers of dead flat roadwork had kept the legs in good shape but I was shocked at the strain on my lungs. I huffed and puffed my way up and down familiar landmarks, coming home in a commendable 43:41 having stopped the watch at Blackcap to flop around in ungainly fashion, forcing air into my chest and oxygen into my starving muscles. The pain reminded me of what a horrible way to go slow asphixiation must be, and I thought of my beloved fish gasping their last, eyes bulging, tails wafting ever slower as they succumbed. I cursed my lack of foresight - a little harshly perhaps - for they were in my care and I can't help but feel I failed them, having left nothing more than feeding instructions for the hapless house-sitter.

A burial service will be held this afternoon at Chez Sweder.
After I've visited Jenny and Tim to deliver my thanks and a large bottle of Pineau of course.