Childhood memories.

I read the saga of the sun lounger Swedish boy and was reminded yet again of my deep and abiding fear of the ocean. I grew up in a rural part of New Zealand and at the harbour mouth there is a beautiful beach- seals, penguins, albatross colony, even historical fortifications from the Russo Japanese war- an eight year old boys dream really. Not such a wise place to swim, because a forty mile long harbour empties out a mouth three hundred yards wide, but we were immortal yes? One day I was splashing about, avoiding the sea lions when something sand papery brushed on my leg- I was in about a meter of water, and I remember feeling immediate fear because I could feel power and weight, enough that it made me stumble forward a little, and when I turned and looked a two meter white pointer shark was lazily swimming past me and the back half of its body rasped over my knees while I became aware that I was now lunch. Whatever you think you might do if a shark confronts you I can advise that you probably won't do that, you'll probably become instantly catatonic with fear- I couldn't move to save my life. As it happened mr sharky was not a well man- he sort of flopped around in some shallow water for a while and semi beached himself, where it became apparent that he'd been gaffed pretty bad, and was probably about 95% dead when he ran into me, but I didn't know that at the time. I still can't really go in the sea thirty years later- when I try I always feel that rough skin slipping across the backs of my legs and start trying to levitate out of the water.