I have a fish phobia. There are several incidents I can connect to this but I’m not sure which ones caused the phobia and which are the result of my dislike for all things fishy!
When I was very young my Dad would take me fishing with him, in the early hours of the morning. Why is it that fishermen feel the need to go fishing at ? Are fish nocturnal? Are they early risers? Being dragged out of bed at to sit on a freezing cold riverbank for hours on end may have been the start of my dislike.
I’m not sure if it was the horrid little wriggling gold fish in the net or the smell of my sister’s rancid fish tank made me heave when I was forced to clean it after she left home and abandoned her fish but by the time I was in my teens I had a serious aversion to fish! One once leaped for freedom from the tank and my little Jack Russell dog picked it up and delivered it to me in my bed! It is painful to relive the moment! Too Gross!
I don’t mind eating them as long as they no longer resemble fish! Live fish make me physically heave! I once virtually cut my finger in half trying to chop the head off a trout I was going to cook without looking at it. The first time I met hubby’s whole family was at his Grandmother’s birthday. I ordered fish and prawns but to my horror they arrived with all their shells and bits still attached. I pulled a head off a prawn and yellow snotty gunge oozed out while the fish looked at me through its milky boiled eye! I eat nothing and blamed my subsequent level of inebriation on lack of food. It, or should I say I, failed to ever impress the future in-laws but his 80 odd year old grandmother enjoyed the show and the family discord that followed!
I probably shouldn’t say this but my own dear grandmother used to fish …on the settee! Perhaps some gynecological problem related to old age! It certainly left an impression on me!
When we moved to a house with a double garage I got hubby a pool table for Christmas and installed a brand new beer fridge in the garage. The fridge had barely cooled when my mother house sat for a week. She has a fisherman friend and was often the lucky recipient of Seaman Stains’ catch from his little tug boat on the high seas. When I returned there was a gigantic dead salmon in there, with head, bitey teeth and blood dripping! It was so huge it had to be curled round on the empty self so it could fit in! I think that was the moment I switched to red wine which doesn’t need to be chilled. Indeed, fish may be the route cause of my alcoholism! …and I never played pool!
The local supermarket here in
boasts a live crawfish fest every weekend they have a huge vat of live crawfish (crayfish) that look like a cross between huge beetles and cockroaches. There are big tongs to use to pick out the best for your crawfish gumbo. . I don’t understand how a nation with so little taste and so lazy (you can buy spray cheese and all your vegetables ready chopped – if you are insane enough to cook and not eat out) buys living, whole creatures to boil alive! I try not to look every week but it has the same pull as a car crash. I head to the wine aisle quickly afterwards! Houston
I have been driven to drink again today by fish, lest I dwell on the new horror I face here in
. I have spent the day vacuuming and spaying toxic bug killer that, knowing Texas will contain chemicals known to render my children infertile, but is completely acceptable because it kills the bugs! The cause of this frenzied activity? No! Not acceptance of my lot as a desperate house wife …I will never surrender on that one! It is my fear of fish. I don’t care that SILVER FISH are not technically fish; they look and move like a fish -out of water. I could accept that they might lurk in damp dark bathrooms but I found one in the wardrobe on an item of clothing! That means they could be anywhere! They like eating books, clothing, hair and dandruff and while they can live a year without food they wont need to in my bedroom with all those things in abundant supply! They like it hot and humid! So did I till I discovered them! Welcome to America ! Texas
The bastards are nocturnal! As I go to bed tonight, glass of red in one hand, Dyson hand held vac in the other (and hubby in Detroit where it is cold and dry and silverfish free) I will reminisce fondly of those early mornings on the river bank with my father … because , come to think of it, he never actually caught a fish!