Scuba diving at sixty-something – or you can’t talk underwater. 

Musings of an older-born

I’m a water baby. If you believe in astrology, it’s because I’m an Aquarian. But I think it’s because I grew up around beaches. Anecdotally, I was swimming before I was walking. A chubby bottle-fed child of the fifties, I was content to sit and observe the world go by. In some ways, nothing has changed. But my father  was a swimmer  and a surfer, and an early photo shows me at the Spit Baths, grinning happily, held by my Dad and supported by a blow-up whale with a ring in it. The photo is black and white, but I can clearly remember the pink of the whale.

Sundays were spent at the baths or Freshwater beach, and although I never swam competitively, I loved the allure of the water; the feeling of support and the washing away of all the clumsiness of land-based activities.  I even caused my mother…

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One thought on “Scuba diving at sixty-something – or you can’t talk underwater. 

  1. Thanks Sally…again, an enjoyable read. What you experienced is something I won’t be …can’t even snorkel well . However, I would love to go back to the Great Barrier Reef and visit Heron Island where I have never been.

    I love the smell of the ocean and beach… brings back lots of happy memories.

    We leave on Wednesday for 9 days in NZ so will catch up with you both when we return.

    Adios amiga


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