How a pet project helped me to meet my Waterloo

I stood high on the sheer stone side of the canal-like river that runs through the long, thin park in my community, willing the ice to melt.

The sun was warm on my face and great chunks of petrified water obligingly broke off beneath me and swirled with the floating pop bottles before being forced by the flow to dip under the frozen blanket that still covered much of the surface. It was as if the river and the sky above knew this was the start of the lunar year and that spring had to be let out of its cage.

I felt a little smile creep onto my face but I hid it because of the courting couple walking past and my fears that they would think me a madman and call the police. Besides, the happiness I felt was not for me - it was for my turtles.