Since Red had passed away the night before, I woke up yesterday morning, knowing that I had to get him out of the tank. What with Oliver being away, he asked me to take Red to the moors and bury him. Now some would say it's a little extreme to bury a goldfish. I could have simply flushed him or, as one friend suggested, put him in the freezer 'til Oliver gets back. I couldn't do either of those. So in the end Red came with me to university. The poor little thing was in my handbag for 15 minutes while I walked to my car, then he had to stay in my car for a few hours while I had lectures. After putting it off and putting it off, eventually I drove to the moors. I felt a bit silly walking up there with a goldfish and a trowel and I kept thinking that I'd made some terrible mistake and when I took Red out of the box he'd start flipping again. This is the trouble with an over active imagination. With a flippy Red in mind I dug a hole, put him in and covered him as quickly as possible. I hope he didn't mind.