The archipelago water was so clear that it was possible to float face down on the surface and make out every magnified detail of the myriad of life far below. One day, aged ten, I had an upset stomach and hadn’t wanted to snorkel so stayed on the boat. Later, thinking I was alone, I’d stripped and, hanging off the transom at the stern, lowered myself into the water to vent my bowels. Seconds later Dad surfaced, gasping for breath and laughing his head off. The mirth induced by the image of my discomfort had almost caused him to drown.