Fish - Night and Day

There's a little girl here who's good at rhyming things. Making a rhyme makes her grin. Coz she's a little bit proud, but mostly just pleased with the little quirk of beauty she's made up.

Last week she was home a day, sick. She was looking at auntie Niamh's blog. (ManAboutForty's failed to interest her beyond the pictures of a few letters, but Various was cool.) Approval was being voiced...
- What a cool idea [International "Put Your Poem In A Shop Month"]! Imagine – you put your poems in shops for people to read!

Then I had an idea.
- It is cool. You could put your poem in a shop.
- Which poem?
- You know the one you wrote for mom's fish night?

This was a poem she had written for a night her mom had friends in for a cookery night. The theme food for the night was fish. The poem was called Fish Night. She had it up in the porch to welcome the friends in.

She thought about it.
- But we'd have to change it. You couldn't say 'Have the best night yet' for the one in the shop... And you'd have to call it Fish Day instead of Fish Night, coz the shop wouldn't be open at night...
- But that wouldn't matter, you could...

I just stopped myself in time. I was getting 'the look'. And she was right, of course. Okay... So we'd have to do a little re-write. But not a problem. A bit of excitement, in fact.

She set about it.

Qualification rules state that you've got to secretly stow your few lines away behind the milk (or other grocery item), then take a photo. Fine. By yesterday (with the 'home sick' days passed) we were all gung ho for the mission. We set out for Galway Bay Seafoods. Me with the camera. She with the page.

Only thing is, there's really no where to hide in this fish shop. It's just a room where they sell fish. And we hadn't bargained on the nice lady being so efficient getting through the other few customers that were there ahead of us. Our covert 'where's-best-place-to-hide-this-page-and-take-secret-photo-of-it' operation was cut short when we found ourselves top of the queue...

- Can I get you anything?

- Errm... Well... Some fresh crab claws and... errm...

The girl with the page buts in...
- And we have this poem we want to put in your shop...

So I had to come clean.

There was a hint in the experienced fish-lady's eyes of, 'so you're using a poor innocent child as emotional blackmail to fulfill your put-a-poem-in-a-shop fetish ... now that's really low'. But she played the part. She took the poem, praised the effort appropriately in her Galway-Claddagh accent, then planted it standing in the ice behind the fish centre-piece.
- There – take yer photo 'way – no probl'm, 'grá.

You could sense a slight shifting of feet amongst the customers who had gathered to follow our progress. They had been amused, but at the same time some of them must have been planning on buying those particular fish that were coming in contact with crayon.

I offered that it would be fine on the glass on top. That wasn't a problem either.
- Wherever you like, 'grá – anywhere at all. Take as many as you want.

Out of politeness, but kinda knowing the answer, I also offered her a chance of immortality...
- Would you like to be in it yourself?

- Indeed I would not, 'grá ... the crabclaws are over there in the fridge.

Fish Day

Millions of fish swim in the sea.
They wriggle alot, and they are not like me.
These ones were caught, so we will have them for tea.
Try them. You will like them. Trust me. You'll see.