I thought I’d give you a break from my Hilda excerpts. This is a recollection from my childhood. Maybe I have exaggerated a bit.

It was the 1970’s, and my mum may well have thought, ‘perhaps buying him a fish tank would have been a cheaper option.’ Ah, well, we can all wonder about shoulda, woulda, coulda.

What happened? It was a beautiful, sunny day. No, you don’t need to know that. Let’s jump into the action. Water poured everywhere. Now I’ve spoilt the ending.

I needed a fish tank. It was a definite need. My heart cried out for one. I was eleven or twelve years old. We all know that at that age, needs and wants are the same thing. So, I needed a fish tank… pronto. I didn’t have enough earnings. Of course, I was working. Those chimneys didn’t sweep themselves, you know, and how do you think they made matches? OK, maybe I wasn’t a chimney sweep or a little match girl. But I had a part-time job at the weekend.

Back to building that fish tank:

1/ Check what materials I had. A quick check in the garage and I found there was no glass. Everyone should be grateful for this. I would have taken any sheets I found and stuck them together. Imagine enormous sheets of window glass stuck together with…. glue? That would have been smashing fun. A trip to A&E would have been a definite, maybe.

No glass then, so what did I find? Perspex, or some see through plastic. Let’s not get picky about branding. Just one sheet, though. No problem, I was creative and inventive. I found some sheets of chipboard. What do you mean, it’s not waterproof? You are not thinking outside the box. I also found a half-used tin of car under seal. Dad had used it when he transformed a Morris Minor van into a people carrier. Yes, my dad invented the people carrier. At least he would have, if only he’d patented it. Mind you, an old Morris Minor with a few chipboard seats covered in padding and faux leather may not have qualified as a people carrier. By the way, that’s where the chipboard came from, leftovers from that project. It’s a pity I didn’t need the pink paint he used to colour the van.

2/ You can all relax. I had all my fingers after I cut the chipboard to size. This fish tank is coming on a treat. Chipboard on three sides and the base. Perspex, or whatever unnamed plastic at the front. Oh yes, I found a strong plastic glue to seal the Perspex to the wood. Then I used the underseal to paint all the wood.

3/ Aquatic life. For all of you, who are worried about the welfare of the fish. Thinking, ‘oil based under seal and fish!’ Don’t worry yourself about such matters. Aquatic life never got anywhere near that tank. I never even purchased such things.

4/ Nearly finished. I waited until the underseal was dry. Let’s be sensible. You don’t want to go off, doing a poor job on a homemade fish tank. Once all was dry, I was ready to get it wet. If you are still with me, you deserve a medal and probably already know what happened. After all, I gave away the ending already.

5/ Time to fill it up. Being a sensible lad and not wanting to run back and forth to the bathroom with buckets. I setup a hosepipe from the bathroom sink to my bedroom. Did I tell you that the fish tank was on my bedroom unit? Where was my mum you are all asking, probably shouting. I would think she was making tea or dinner. She trusted her sensible, grown-up son.

Having wedged the hose into the tank. I had no wish to cause any water to leak onto the floor. As previously noted, I was careful. I turned on the tap. There is an expression, ‘the best laid plans of mice and men.’ I thought my plan was far better than any mice. However, it lacked the skill of certain men.

As the water level rose, I watched in wonder. I had created a fish tank. How many of you can say that? The water rose, and it rose. The water level got to where I could see into the tank, about half-full, if I remember rightly. Or is that half-empty? No, half-full.

Triumph is a fickle thing. Joy and sorrow such close companions. As the water rose even more, my excitement grew with it.

Then it happened. Not slowly, not in a way that I could grab a towel or a cup. Not in a way that enabled a smart lad like me to rescue the situation. Oh no. The Perspex, for let’s blame that manufacturer now, exploded out of the side. Who knew that 2mm thick Perspex (metric given for a modern audience) would bend under the pressure of water? Who knew that water weighs about 1kg per litre? I’m not speaking to the smart Alecs now. Water poured forth like a torrent, or is that a waterfall? Whichever it was, it did not belong in a bedroom.

Cheap carpet in the 1970’s was made of nylon or other washable fabrics. My bedroom had a cheap, and at that point, rather wet carpet. What it lacked was water tightness. An oversight, in my humble opinion. If the floor in my bedroom had been watertight, then I could have mopped up the couple of gallons of water before they burst through the ceiling below. Hardly my fault, is it?

Wouldn’t it have been cheaper to just buy me a fish tank? Form your own opinion, I know the truth of the matter. Answers on a postcard, they won’t make any difference, anyway.

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