oiorpata (oiorpata) wrote,
oiorpata
oiorpata

Loads of nothing happening

No plants have died, the ammonia processing bacteria are in fine fettle, and the nitrite bacteria seem to be slowly starting to make a bit of a change to the nitrite levels in the water, I'm pretty sure the nitrite test is a lighter shade of purple compared to last week, but it has to turn blue before the tank is safe for fish and shrimp.

S'all a lot slower than I'd hoped, but that is probably due to keeping the tank at 24 degrees centigrade instead of the recommended 29-30 for optimal bacteria cultivation. I started out with the thermostat set on 26 degrees, the maximum comfort level for some of the plants, but lowering it a couple of degrees seems to have reduced the stress on the few plants that managed to survive.

The little plastic aquarium (ordered on the off chance that some of the killifish eggs in peat that are on their way from Thailand hatch) has arrived, and turns out to be the exact same tank that youngest niece has kept her goldfish in for many years. She won them at a fair when she was a little girl, she's at uni now but both fish are still going strong and have learnt how to beg for food whenever anyone comes close to their tank.

Oh dear, the sky is blue. I suppose that means I ought to go out and do something in the garden. I dunno what the weather is coming to, time was you could expect a reliable supply of spring rain to provide excuses for not getting things done out there. Pottering about on Saturday and Sunday I've pretty much worked my way through all the little jobs that allowed me to put off making a start building the new chicken fencing. I've got the wood, I've got the roll of chicken wire. I've even got the wire cutters and stapler. All that needs doing now is the mitre saw fetching down from upstairs, the work mate dragged down the garden and set up and some actual measuring, cutting and assembling. Gotta face it, I don't like working with pressure treated timber batons, nasty spiteful things, looking so innocent while slyly biding their time, never missing a chance to slide a horrid splinter under the tender integument of a lily white hand. It's no job for a lady, and hardly my fault if my language deteriorates accordingly when the electric screwdriver looses it's charge, the little drill for predrilling the holes has vanished, and the staple thumper refuses to cooperate! My sister had a Canadian lodger once, he built her a lovely high fence and topped it with a splendid trellis and when she tried to pay him for his time he refused, claiming that "it does a man good to work with wood". Where are all the Canadian lodgers when you need them?
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