Shall we? It's this snapper, again. No. He's not the idiot. I am. And, being such a cunt has cost me dearly! I just can't believe how fucking thick I've been! What's fucking Wrong with me?!
Come to that? I wonder that none of the people I explained all this shit to didn't just say; " Hang about, you thick cunt. Why don't ye just ....." God all mighty!
Here goes then: When I got my Snapping Turtle I was completely aware that he'd grow ridiculously big and would need, basically, a pond of his own.
No problemmo. I'd get him what's called a Stock Tank. Basically, a large, low, circular steel tank. Somewhat like one of those blow up paddling pools people get for kiddies to splash about in. But, bigger.
I'd put it out on my ground. Put a fence round it, to keep the Dogs out and turtle in. Job done.
Only, this fucking snapper's grown on me so much, he's Like a fucking Dog now! I love glancing over at him. He responds like hell, when he sees me feeding the real Dogs. He knows they're getting meat and he wants some!
No Way could I shove him outside. Just going out to stare down at him, once in a while. No. Not fucking happening. Not on my shift.
That's about where I went full fucking retard and my whole thought process went completely to shit!
I started researching fuck off great fish tanks. Mind bendingly big ones. Olympic sized shit. How do they do them?
Ply wood! Seriously! The mega serious, Marine type boys don't fuck about with acres of plate glass. They use fucking ply wood! Glue it, with ridiculously special and murder to work with glue.
Screw it. Seal it. Paint it, with stupidly special fucking paint that costs a fortune. Hell of a lot of fucking around. But, if They can do it ....?
I decided, as ply comes in 8' x 4' sheets? That'd be my base line. Snappy shall have an eight by four tank. In here. Where my futon is. I can give it a glass front and look at him. Sixteen inches deep should do it. Cut a sheet into three strips, look.
But, wait; What about my futon? " Durrrrr " moment number one! I thought I'd get some sort of table structure made. Put his tank on top of it. I'd sleep underneath.
Cunt. Even when I calculated this thing was gonna weigh about a ton and half, full of water, I still envisaged getting a good nights sleep, directly beneath it. FFS!
Thankfully, Hugh had the presence of mind to suggest I might be better sleeping above it!
He also threw in that miners, to this day, like wooden pit props. " Because wood can be heard to crack, before the roof comes down. ". Suddenly, the vision of me sleeping my remaining days, one ear open for that Crack ..... No. Just No. Fuck That!
Then, I spoke to Dean O'. All round fucking genius, is Dean O'. Turn his hand to anything. He pointed out that this floor was laid for people to walk on. It was never mean't to support a ton and half in the space of a sofa.
Being pissed doesn't help. The floor. Not Dean O'. Floor runs down. No good trying to level it. Needs a whole, new, slab of concrete. Both to level the slope and support the weight.
So; I called Bob The Builder. Have asked him to come here and give me a quote. For laying an eight by four slab of concrete, in my room.
I'll leave it there, for now. Because, that's about where I've got to. Paint, in my shed. Glue, on its way. Three sheets of 3/4" Exterior grade, under cover, outside.
And, I'm a cunt. Complete and total fucking arsehole. Can you, dear reader, see where I missed the simple answer?
Many decades ago, a nice bloke, by the name of Clem', once said to me: " Ditch; As you go through life, you'll need to get things done. And, there's Always a hard way, and an easier way of doing anything. Always look for the easy way. "
I've tried to live by that. I fucked up. I've let ye down, Clem'. I'm a cunt.
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