As you can see from this picture:
I have a very serious living room. After years of living in student accommodation or studio flats or houses that were pretty much falling down – I’ve moved around a lot – I finally have a place where the wallpaper isn’t peeling off and I don’t have to cover up the damage with posters. I have grown-up things in my living room. Beautiful art prints by photographers Lehnert and Landrock, all the way from Cairo. An antique typewriter. Pretty plants. Fancy velvet sofas.
And a tropical fish tank.
I’ve not had much luck with my fish since I started keeping them back in April; only one of my original batch remains, a spotted plec named Bobby (after Supernatural‘s grumpy old hunter) who makes me smile because he is (a) spotty and (b) grumpy. Last week I brought home some more fish – three silver dollars I’ve named Dave, Dave and Nick after the SFX team (don’t ask), two boesemani rainbow fish I’ve named Fred and George because they’re ginger like the Weasley twins; and a ruby shark I’ve called Ruby, after Ruby on Supernatural (what? It made sense at the time!). They all seem as happy as fish can be, their tank looks pretty and all is well with the world.
Except that I’m a bit fed up with being sensible. You know how you can buy special laminated pictures to stick on the back wall of your fish tank? Pictures of submerged mangrove tree roots or sunken shipwrecks or deep blue ocean ripples? They tend to look tacky and fake, but they give the fish something to look at that isn’t their own reflections, and I’m tempted to buy one.
The thing is, my living room is a nice, adult, grown-up, serious living room. BUT I WANT A PICTURE OF SOME DINOSAURS.
Someone talk me out of it. Please?