I came in this morning from night shift to find that one of Allan's Goldfish had died. Wee Bumper as I called him was the smallest of the Goldfish, and I called him Bumper because he had his bump on his head. Allan had said it was probably a tumour, and that it may not be anything because apparently they can get these normally benign lumps. I noticed last nioght he was spending time on his own away from the other Goldfish, and seemed to be hovering in the bottom half of the tank, but it's not like you can just take him to the vets; that's one of the things about having fish. I hoped he would be allright, but this morning there he was at the bottom of the tank. I was wailing and crying, probably more than somethig like that should affect me, but I felt guilty, that I wasn't looking after the Babies, but probably because primarily that's another small, but then again significant thing; another of the small strings that bound Allan and I together was cut. I know I do look after them, but I just felt so sorry for wee Bumper, and yes for me too. At least the other Goldfish didn't try and have a bit of him, the poor soul. Allan, I asked you to look after him for me. I know you will my precious man. My love to you forever my darling. Pet Fred for me? xxxxxxx