For as long as I can remember, I’ve loved sharks. By that I mean I’ve loved the idea of sharks, of course, having fallen victim to an older brother who (I can only presume) took much delight in showing me Jaws when I was far too young. In practice, I am sure if I actually saw a shark in the wild, this fascination and awe would quickly dissolve into absolute terror, though with awe remaining. It is for this reason, perhaps, that I have not yet been shark-or cage-diving. I can imagine it now …
Watching in earnest as a dark, sinister form appears in the distance. I gasp, respirator falling out of my mouth. But I am not paying attention, because there is a SHARK materialising right in front of me. Having forgotten about the respirator, I take a deep breath to calm my nerves, asphyxiate and die.
My dream is to see a shark while I am kayaking out in Sydney Harbour. I will let you know when it is time to eat my words.
The first job I can remember wanting to do was marine biologist and this was predominantly to do with how cool I thought blue-ringed octopuses were, and
