Greetings, literate mammals.

Hello. Allow us to introduce ourselves. We are Carrot and Jasper (no relation to Jasper Carrot) and will be bringing you this update. You see, we are happy to be living in a place called the Gold House (despite a ridiculous person in the 19th century having carved above the outer door some nonsense about it being called 'Norbet House'), being as we ARE GOLDfish. Do not even think about indulging in specieist behaviour and denigrating Jasper for his pale hue. This makes him very upset and when he is upset, well, there could be dangerous consequences -- there is a distinct goldish tint above his upper lip. (do fish have lips?)

It has been brought to our attention that this blog has been neglected for quite a while due to the flitty behaviour of our human, and so we have decided to take matters into our own hands. Ahem, fins. ...now, would that be pectoral fins, dorsal fins, caudal fins or fat fins? Well anyhoo, we can't worry about such trivialities. On with the show.

It should be noted that the plants pictured in this picture have been thrown out with the rubbish as they were causing an alarming growth of algae, which made us have to gulp air all through the night, annoying our person and making her edgy. We now have a lovely plastic plant, with reddish highlights in the centre of the leaves. And we are learning that it is not a super idea to eat snails. Only one has stayed down in Jasper's tummy and the rest are getting a bit large for our mouths. Plus our person taps on the glass in reprimand when we try to pick on them. And that is no fun.

Our person seems to be in a much better humour now than on the Monday we first moved in (11 Sept). A human of Italian origin, named Fabiana, we think, brought us to Amrie, who transported us home dangling from the handlebars of a bike (boringly, she decided to walk the bike instead of riding it -- she obviously has no idea of our inherent bravery and sense of balance). She quite indecorously dumped us into our bowl with no flora or chicly coloured floor coverings, leaving us with nothing better to do for the next two days than watch her sit at her keyboard tapping madly away between bouts of phone calls, frantic Greeks and a large percentage of coffee production.

Finally, she began to smile and breathe evenly after a nice man brought a big stack of papers which had been 'printed' at an 'office'. She claims a 'word count' of nearly 16000, whatever that means. Calm finally descended on the room after our person took a trip to something called a 'bindery'. And then she was able to get around to taking care of our needs for suitable decor and playing us audio books and calming music.

Someone had a birthday party on 14 September; we think it was a Wirish person. Then our person went to the 'opera' at the Canolfan Mileniwm Cymru on the 16th as a pressie for the birthday person. She was rather in a swivet about reserving appropriate seating, but it all worked out fine. Upon her return, she reported to us that it was very well done (although she wasn't sure at first if she would approve of modern treatment of classical subject matter). Her impression was that of Dali meets Cabaret meets opera. Overall, she approved.

Sunday last, furniture was added to the decor of our reception room (which is also where our person sleeps at night. and watches movies. and knits.), which was obtained from Dawn/Dave, a person who lives currently in Treharris on the other side of Caerphilly Mountain. This is a mad person who, after finishing an MA in Language and Communication Research, has decided to move to Huddersfield in pursuit of a PhD.

On Tuesday, something important seems to have occurred, although our person kept tut-tutting that there was no need for such fuss. The phone kept croaking and there was a lot of laughing. This was a good thing. A lot of emails were coming through, which made her chuckle. Someone kept calling and asking if she was still at home and if she would be home at different times through the day; at first, she thought it was because people were coming to eat lunch or have tea, but then a HUGE cluster of flowers appeared, along with a vase, a balloon and a pink bear! (note: pictures being testy on Blogger, so links go to flickr pics)

Later that evening, a lot of people milled about in the Gold House, talking rather loudly. It was a good thing they were mostly in the kitchen in the back of the house, so our sensitive ears could get back to listening to the snails in our bowl. Apparently, this ruckus was part of a large food production process. Muffins were made by Steffi. Eamonn made pate stuffed mushrooms for starters and pork steaks, marinated in balsamic, garlic, and, oh, lots of stuff plus veggies for mains and homemade garlic butter bread. A lot of garlic was consumed in this event, which carried the celebration into the next day. And expensive vino. Other notes are that the birthday girl was unable to refrain from Obsessive Compulsion. Diana took pictures and, therefore, managed to avoid being photographed. This shall soon be remedied. Diana was, however, introduced to Little Britain, before she escaped to late night Salsa dancing.

Thursday, our person went to a class on Small Group Teaching at Cardiff University. She seems to be under some delusion that interacting with undergraduates in a classroom setting will be fun.

Tonight, she plans to go to 'the rugby' with some Welsh people. We are quite happy to stay at home, as we don't think that the Cardiff Blues burger van contains appropriate food for us.

Overall, we have had a very good week. We have had our water changed three times (with person's emotional battle with algae), gotten a new plant, and have eaten and vomited some snails, all whilst keeping an eye on the goings on in the Gold House and environs. We saw Diana's bike get stolen outside our window the other afternoon, but we can't figure out how to tell on the slimy scum. Our people don't seem to understand fin-based semaphore. Any suggestions will be welcome.

This week, we have seen:
another American, who likes coffee, yarn and Jasper (favouritism -- just because he has that little gold bit on his lip. Cute isn't everything you know, and just because he is trying to flirt...);
a German, who seems to live in the next room and bakes muffins;
a Columbian, who lives down the hall;
two episodes of the first season of 24;
some knitting techniques;
our person hang some sheer curtains;
someone get a parking ticket;
The Merchant of Venice;
and evidence of the presence of a creature (shown to R) who seems to live in a box on the patio. The Wirish person tells us this is called a 'flea-bag' but our person considers this slanderous and vociferously protests. All we can say is that we are happy not to have such an ugly furred beast peering through our window or stalking around our reception area, no matter how cosily it is furnished.

End of fishy communique.