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BLISSFUL IGNORANCE OF THE VORTEX
MY USUAL DIVE SHOW SHOPPING FRENZY was curtailed this year. Instead of the usual anxieties - have I got the best price on that length of bungee, would a fourth pair of fins be overdoing it? - I had a more pressing concern. I was giving a presentation, and I was suffering from pre-performance nerves.
Easing this anxiety involved knocking back large quantities of tea, checking and rechecking my equipment, and bolting to the loo at regular intervals. It was rather like preparing for a dive.
I was speaking immediately after John Bennett's presentation about his amazing 1000ft dive, so I sat in the hall to acclimatise myself and check that my outfit didn't clash with the carpet.
His account of the whole experience - the tremors and blurring vision, the vertigo and throwing up for nine hours on the ascent - sounded so terrifying that it threw my own worries into sharp perspective.
All I had to worry about was making a bit of a fool of myself - a talent that I appear to have made into something of a career.
Making a public presentation is many people's idea of hell, but the Dive Show certainly knows how to treat a girl.
I had one man sticky-taping a mike above my left breast; and another to push my buttons. Heaven.
As I stood at the front, trying not to trip over my feet, I heard myself saying: "The wreck was only in 60m." Only 60? Perhaps the talk of 1000ft dives had addled my brain - is it just me that's losing the plot, or has "deep" become meaningless to many divers today?
I remember sitting at the bottom of the swimming pool as a hapless trainee diver. I considered the 3m to the surface a hell of a long way to have to bolt should my mask-clearing exercise go tits up. When I visited a 15m-high climbing wall and looked down from the top, I felt nauseous. How can I dismiss 60m of sea water above me as no big deal?
The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy describes a form of torture known as the Total Perspective Vortex. You get to experience the majestic vastness of the universe, and see how miniscule and utterly irrelevant you are within it. This smashes your ego and scrambles your brain.
A bit like an amplified version of John Bennett dangling alone, on the end of a piece of string, 1000ft down.
But here lies the problem. You need to be able to perceive the vastness around you. In the UK, most of my dives are spent trying to work out which part of the wreck I have just headbutted. When the universe appears to have been reduced to barely a metre square, a diver tends to occupy a large proportion of it.
Could this be why we British divers tend to have such a high opinion of ourselves?
Meanwhile, several people have asked how my search for a dive slave is progressing. To give you a flavour of the correspondence, I'm copying you in to some of my repliesÉ
Mr H - A kind offer indeed, but I think you should ask your wife before volunteering her. And no, I don't believe she would enjoy living in my gear gulper.
"Cringer" - Yes, you do sound suitably obedient, but I'm afraid I have so much dive kit to carry that wielding a riding crop is totally out of the question.
SB - My cat has many talents, but the ability to scuba dive isn't one of them. So unfortunately I can't promise you any underwater pussy.
Mr Footsyfan - I don't think I can help you because my feet are inaccessible in my drysuit boots before the dive, and after the dive... believe me, you really wouldn't want to go there.
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