NEXT MONTH
The last year has truly exhausted us all, but I’ve been surprised at how much it also knocked my fishkeeping mojo too. Then I got to a store and the buzz is back.
IDID IT, I got out to a shop. I donned my mask, grabbed my photographer and hit the road to visit a store I’ve never visited before. I’ll be writing it up for the next issue, but until then, just know that I’m ecstatic to get out of the house and back into the real world. If, like me, you’ve been adhering to the Government advice to minimise your outdoor ventures, then I imagine that you may have found your enthusiasm has become slowly, mysteriously flagging.
Blessed interaction
As so many of you will be surely able to relate, the overwhelming majority of my recent fishy interactions have been online. Conversations, chit chat, chewing the fat — call it what you will. But it took me a while to realise what was missing from those. Each and every online engagement I had, regardless of the content, just left me feeling a bit flat.
It wasn’t until I was face to face to face in a store that I realised what the digital ether cannot transport. Excitement. Passion. Words on a screen are just word, but conversation in person is energising, invigorating even.
The strain
Lockdown fatigue has been real. I know that for many of us, our aquariums have been a lifeline, something to invest our time and effort into so we can distract ourselves from the ever-present dread of living through a global pandemic.
At this time last year, I was fearful for the future of the fishkeeping, and in particular for the retailers who are the bedrock of what we do. I envisioned grossly depleted earnings, and shops devoid of customers, with their energy-hungry livestock systems quaffing through their cash reserves — the pumps, heaters and lighting that you need when you’re running 400 aquariums can rack up quite the electricity bill.
In the event I needn’t have worried. We really did invest in the hobby this last year, with many shops reporting bumper earnings after a wobbly start. I guess that all that money we weren’t spending on restaurant meals, trips to the pub, and £50 packets of popcorn at the cinema was burning quite the hole in our collective hobbyist pockets. We spent hard.
But I’m also aware of all too many of my acquaintances who have been making noises about shelving the hobby altogether. It seems to have lost its flair, they tell me. They just don’t seem to get the same ‘hit’ from it that they used to. Instead, the hobby has become a chore, the tank just another task to be factored into their day.
To those people, I ask if you have been in the same place as me. Did you isolate hard? Hell, I didn’t even get to see my partner for four months straight, I took it that seriously. If you were, then perhaps a major fishkeeping ‘hit’ is that precious interaction, just as I’ve found mine to be. I’d ask you to stick with it, ride this storm out until the restrictions are fully lifted. Then, get back to your local shop, see those happy faces and engage. Talk tanks with the staff, ask about the new fish that are in, and take the opportunity to embark on being a ‘born again newcomer’ all over again. Chances are that you’re more of an extrovert than you thought you were, and need to feed on the energy of a bubbly storekeeper.
On top of that, there’s something about seeing fish again, in the flesh. I’ve watched hundreds of hours of fish videos since Christmas alone. They were okay. But seeing a range of stock in the flesh was like someone had crept up and hit me with a defibrillator. And I couldn’t get enough of it.
Bear with it, friends. This shall all pass.
The last year has truly exhausted us all, but I’ve been surprised at how much it also knocked my fishkeeping mojo too. Then I got to a store and the buzz is back.