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MY FIRST DIVE (our first report from Planet Expat)
by Sue de Nym

As the cool turquoise waters of the Gulf slide over my head, I adjust my face mask and swim for the coral reef and all its promised glories.
Then - and this is a dream come true for me, dear NetSurfers - I find myself part of a strange new world, full of colours and shapes I could only dream about before. I swim through a vast shoal of kippers and marvel at the glistening golden brown of their smokey bodies, and then, suddenly, I arrive at the reef itself - that coral castle, a monument to the tireless industry of millions and millions of tiny fish fingers.
Startled, a shoal of whitebait dart away like streaks of pale fire, and their attendant lemon slices scatter in panic, while beneath me a herd of scampi roll majestically by, their golden brown coats a

near perfect camouflage in this sandy underwater world.
Alerted by a sudden movement on the reef beside me I turn to see an enormous codfish approaching. This is wonderful. At last I shall be able to investigate a marine mystery that has baffled me (and no doubt many others down the ages).
How do they keep their batter so crispy with all this water everywhere?


	Fearlessly I move forward to examine the mysterious creature and also, truth be told, have a read of its newspaper. But then, with a chill feeling at my heart that only a fellow diver will understand, I realise that there is something even bigger and infinitely more menacing than any codfish lurking around the reef today. The chill feeling becomes stronger. Is there a shadow overhead, blocking the rays of the burning sun which still penetrate the coral gloom? No, it's just a wokful of sweet and sour shrimps rowing frantically along in the swirling current. Something is after them. I look fearfully around. Sharks? Killer Whales? Or - horror of horrors - a Shoal of Sardines? That would mean a merciless end. The death of a thousand cuts. Those jagged tin edges.. those sharp pointy little keys... I shudder, for there is indeed something very large hovering above us all. Something more aggressive than even Sardines. Its gigantic, its menacing, its furious. Its the Moderator. And he is on the attack. "Get out of my website, you fraud, you cheat" he is roaring, "You've never been any nearer the sea than the whelk stall at the end of Wigan Pier." True, dear Netsurfers. But however did he know? What gave me away? I've done a lot of research for this. As my visa card and my expanding waistline will testify. All is not lost though. You may still have the pleasure of surfing with me. Because he's just offered me the job of Restaurant Critic. And he's suggested that I start with that Whelk Stall at the end of Wigan Pier!

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