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BE HONEST,
WE LIKE
THAT EDGE
You know you're in trouble when The Guardian starts doing a concerned citizen feature about scuba-diving deaths. I don't feel in any more danger of dying, but I do feel I'm facing an increased risk of taking my goodie bag and throttling the next person who patronises me.
The trouble with this kind of media coverage is that my friends start phoning and saying: "You're not still doing that scuba thing, are you?", in a tone that suggests I've become a confirmed heroin addict.
Work colleagues sternly warn me to "be careful", as if I'm three years old and have been caught playing with a pair of scissors.
And this from people who daily cram themselves onto the London Underground, and risk being slowly suffocated with their face pressed into some sweaty business executive's armpit.
As the hacks at The Guardian well know, death, blood and disaster will always make a good headline, whereas Thousands Enjoy Fabulous Weekend Diving or Coastguard Complain of Boredom After No-one Needs Rescuing just sound lame.
And that's the paradox. By emphasising the risks of diving, the main-stream press is doing us a huge favour. Far from deterring people, a dangerous edge and a high profile increase the desirability of the sport.
Think back to your first images of divers, probably in films. They were constantly battling with giant squid, dodging sharks, getting their hoses trapped or cut, fighting underwater enemies - it was clearly a high-risk activity. Did it put you off? No way!
"Diving is Fun" gets my vote for the naffest slogan around. How sad can a sport be if you have to spell it out to people that they'll have fun?
It took PADI five years to figure this one out. Now it's merrily pushing the adventurous angle, offering you the chance to pay an instructor to hold your hand as you do something wild and extreme like wreck-diving.
Not only can you impress yourself with how brave you are, you get a badge and certificate to impress your friends! Marvellous.
I was about to launch into a rant about how diving is being reduced to the status of a fairground ride, but my handbag fell off the desk and all my cutesy little diving qualification cards spilled out across the floor. Whoops! There goes my own private merry-go-round.
If you want to know whether people perceive diving as risky, you have to watch how those who know nothing about it react.
Take my Dad. He regards the oceans with suspicion. He doesn't even like cross-Channel ferries, because there's always the possibility that they will sink, capsize or catch fire. Occasionally when I'm gossiping about my underwater exploits he will frown and say: "But Lulu, isn't that a bit dangerous?" And I'll laugh. "No, silly. We do proper training, you know."
He doesn't argue, but I can tell he believes me. About as much as he believed me at age 14 when I told him that, yes, I'd already finished my homework and, no, that wasn't me seen snogging Andy Harris outside Woolworths.
If a day ever comes when my Dad thinks I've grown up and have started behaving sensibly, I'll probably have to move to Outer Mongolia suffering from an identity crisis. Maybe that's why doing something that's seen as a little bit dangerous is so addictive. Who wants to admit that they've become a boring old fart?
Speaking of which, "Remember When Sex was Safe and Diving was Dangerous?" asks the car sticker. There are plenty of veteran divers around who do, but please don't start them off on it unless you have several hours and plenty of beer money to spare.
Diving: it's all become too easy these days, they'll tell you. After all, even girls are allowed to do it now!
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