The 80p tortoise

When I was a kid, one summer holiday from school, I decided I wanted a tortoise. I must have done a project on them at school or something, that's how my interest was usually piqued about things.  And I'd seen tortoises in The Fish Bowl, the pet shop in town and decided right then that a tortoise was the pet for me. They were easier than having a dog. There'd be no walking it twice a day to do and all I'd have to do to feed it was chuck a bit of lettuce in its box every now and then. As a pet it was easy, peasy but not very squeezy.

My mam said I could have one, as long as I saved up for it myself.   And so I did. All summer I saved and I saved until I had the required amount - a whopping 80p. Weeks later, with the money in my hot little hand, I trooped back to The Fish Bowl with my mam ready to hand over my 80p in exchange for my new pet.

However, there was bad news. It was worse than bad, I was devastated. There had been some sort of a ban on importing tortoises into the country. There were no more tortoises left in the shop, or the country, apparently. I remember asking the shopkeeper if he could order one in for me, but I also remember him using the words 'ban on importing' as if I should know what it meant. I didn't. I did know that I'd saved up for nothing. I was bereft. All I wanted was a tortoise.

We left the shop and went home. I was upset but also in a dilemma. I now had the grand sum of 80p to spend to my heart's delight on something other than a tortoise. I bought a tennis racquet instead.

I hated that tennis racquet for not being a tortoise.
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