Tanks but No Tanks

I have been thinking more about my fish tank project. It seems rather daunting; there is talk of nitrogen cycles and much other stuff not seen by me since upper Sixth days. Even filling the tank with water has its own mysteries. The water has to be changed by a seriously complicated procedure.
My experience as a kid with fish was dead simple. We had three big fat goldfish – Stalin, Roosevelt and Churchill. They lived in a galvanised water storage tank in the garden. No air pumping, no plants, no feeding. Nothing at all in the way of care. They occasionally froze when the temperature went down but resumed their full aquatic life when things got warmer. Nice, simple and uncomplicated.
As I read the care and attention required to keep a few slices of carrot alive, I realised that all I wanted was the end experience of seeing neon-glowing objects moving about in abstract patterns. It is not that I could not soon get up to speed on the requirements; I’m just not interested in that part of the project.
So, the fish thing is dead in the water.
I now have to think of something else, or, horror of horrors, decline any sort of birthday present. Maybe if anyone knows of a shiny pole and a lady dancer?