Snorkel Quotes

Irony - The modern mode: either the devil’s mark or the snorkel of sanity.

snorkel fin bog water

Love is like going snorkeling... You go along looking at pretty fish and cool plants until a wave rolls you over a coral reef... then the sharks come.

He was wearing a scuba mask and snorkel set pushed off his handsome face . . . a set of flippers that slapped over the slick floor as he approached the pool’s edge . . . a slingshot bathing suit that was hot pink . . . and a children’s

leathery tan face and eyes popping from white rings of flesh left by tanning goggles, had his head so far up his ass that he needed a snorkel to breathe. At least most thought so.

...in the woods, if you stopped, if you grew still, you'd hear a whole new set of sounds, wind rasping through silhouetted leaves and the cries and chatter of blue jays and brown thrashers and redbirds and sparrows, the calling of crows and hawks, squirrels barking, frogs burping, the far braying of dogs, armadillos snorkeling through dead leaves...

And thus I learned that at Harvard, while knowing a great deal is the norm and knowing everything is the goal, appearing to know everything is an acceptable substitute. I pondered this great truth during the two-hour seminar. I was so buoyed up by it that I didn't pay enough attention to snorkeling up little bits of food in order to keep my nausea under control. I sailed right on into my next class, another seminar, confident that I could get through it without losing my lunch.

Hawaii is still the single most frequent fantasy destination, not because of political stability or conveniences, but because Hawaii seduces the imagination. It's the perfect postcard, no props, no fillers.

Everyone, even Kai, looks like a tourist in a snorkel mask. And maybe we are all tourists in this underwater world—snorkels are our temporary visas, allowing us to visit this mysterious country for brief slices of time.

The Dordogne in 1984 was the nadir. Diarrhea, moths like flying hamsters, the blowtorch heat. Awake at three in the morning on a damp and lumpy mattress. Then the storm. Like someone hammering sheets of tin. Lightning so bright it came through the pillow. In the morning sixty, seventy dead frogs turning slowly in the pool. And at the far end something larger and furrier, a cat perhaps, or the Franzetti's dog, which Katie was poking with a snorkel.

Most of the fish in coral reefs are also trichromats. But since red light is strongly absorbed by water, their sensitivities are shifted toward the blue end of the spectrum. This explains why so many reef fish, like the blue tang that stars in Pixar’s Finding Dory, are blue and yellow. To their version of trichromacy, yellow disappears against corals, and blue blends in with the water. Their colors look incredibly conspicuous to snorkeling humans, because our particular trio of cones excels at discriminating blues and yellows. But the fish themselves are beautifully camouflaged to each other, and to their predators.

There’s so much to do in Bali that you may feel a little overwhelmed when it comes to packing. On a recent trip, I hiked a volcano, went island hopping and snorkelling, went to yoga and breathwork classes, got massages, visited waterfalls, dined at upscale restaurants, spent an afternoon at a beach club, wandered through rice paddies and visited temples.

One of the things that made Nate and Stevie such good friends was their mutual hatred of sharing emotional things. Somehow, they managed to have a deeper bond by staying on the surface—as if they were snorkeling their feelings, floating along side by side, observing all of nature’s wonders without getting close enough to be stung by something under a rock.

Remember Boogie Rule #6 (Don't watch local children boogie killer surf and say hey they can. do it , I can do it,) You like die?

Sitting up in bed with his glasses on now, my father grinned at me proudly. “So this is your life, huh, Junior? No wonder you haven’t come home to visit—I wouldn’t come home either. You’ve got a stewardess at the airport, a sexy police detective in your back pocket, and a maid that makes house calls. Lemme guess, you’ve got a swim instructor that gives snorkeling lessons, too? Eh?

Snorkel through our vibrant menagerie of fish and marine life, each one of which has been clearly tagged and labeled for your convenience. Do you think the jokers at Sandals would do that for you? We’ve stocked our ivory reef with disparate creatures from all over the world, creating a lavishly unbalanced ecosystem that you have to see to believe. Often the things that nature never intended are the most fun to look at.

How recently have the sharks been fed?" the guy next to me asked. Alex and I were in a small room with a dry-erase board, a perky blonde aquarium emplyee, and three guys from Rutgers who'd won their fraternity Christmas prize. True to Alex's promise, no one had seen me in my miniscule jungle print. Another perky girl had handed me a wet suit and pointed me into a changing room. So as I listened to the basics of shark tank etiquette, I was fully encased in blue neoprene from ankle to jaw. The frat boys kept sneaking looks at me when they thought I-and Alex-wasn't looking. It made me feel just a little bit better. Alex's promise that I didn't have to get into the water if I really didn't want to helped, too. It had gotten me out of the car and into the aquarium. "You can do it," he'd coaxed. "Yes," I'd answered, thinking of the skateboarder a little and "fake it til you make it" more. "I can do it." "Yesterday." Perky Girl answered the feeding question. "Believe me. They're not hungry." I wanted to know exactly how she knew that.Did she ask the sharks? "Okay," she chirped. "Let's get snorkeling.

You say hope leads to disaster, but I say from disaster comes hope. You were married and I thought I'd never learn your name. Now I know you love sea turtles and snorkeling, you're fiercely devoted to your friends, and you take your coffee with a lot of cream but will add sugar when the mood strikes. Before you, I didn't think life could get better; a great family, the best home, and so much time to enjoy my life. What more could I want? You've upended my world and become woven into every part of it. I can't carve a nisse without thinking about what might amuse you. Every time I make a kringle, I wonder if you'll like it. I never want to look at the stars again without you to guide my gaze.

In front of me girls were entering and exiting the showers. The flashes of nakedness were like shouts going off. A year or so earlier these same girls had been porcelain figurines, gingerly dipping their toes into the disinfectant basin at the public pool. Now they were magnificent creatures. Moving through the humid air, I felt like a snorkeler. On I came, kicking my heavy, padded legs and gaping through the goalie mask at the fantastic underwater life all around me. Sea anemones sprouted from between my classmates’ legs. They came in all colors, black, brown, electric yellow, vivid red. Higher up, their breasts bobbed like jellyfish, softly pulsing, tipped with stinging pink. Everything was waving in the current, feeding on microscopic plankton, growing bigger by the minute. The shy, plump girls were like sea lions, lurking in the depths. The surface of the sea is a mirror, reflecting divergent evolutionary paths. Up above, the creatures of air; down below, those of water. One planet, containing two worlds. My classmates were as unastonished by their extravagant traits as a blowfish is by its quills. They seemed to be a different species. It was as if they had scent glands or marsupial pouches, adaptations for fecundity, for procreating in the wild, which had nothing to do with skinny, hairless, domesticated me.

The first buddy pair enters the deep end of the pool and begins buddy breathing. The games begin when, like a hungry shark, an instructor menacingly stalks the two trainees. Suddenly, the instructor darts forward, grabs the snorkel, and tosses it about ten feet away where it slowly sinks to the bottom. It is the duty of the last person to have taken a breath, to retrieve the snorkel. As the swimmer dives ten feet deep to recover the snorkel, his buddy floats motionless, his face underwater, holding his breath, patiently conserving oxygen. The swimmer returns with the snorkel and hands it to his buddy, but before his teammate can grab it and breathe, the instructor sadistically snatches the snorkel and again tosses it away. The swimmer, still holding his breath, dives to get the snorkel, but the instructor grabs his facemask and floods it with pool water. The swimmer has a choice. He can clear his mask of water, by blowing valuable air into it through his nose, or he can continue to swim with his mask full of water blurring his vision. The swimmer makes the right decision and retrieves the snorkel. All this time both trainees are holding their breath, battling the urge to surface and suck in a lung full of sweet fresh air. With lungs burning and vision dimming, the swimmer hands the snorkel to his buddy. After taking only two breaths, his buddy returns the snorkel and, finally the instructor allows the swimmer to breathe his two breaths. While the trainees try to breathe, instructors splash water into foam around them while screaming insults. Despite the distractions, the snorkel travels back and forth between the trainees until once again, an instructor snatches it, tosses it across the pool, and floods both students’ masks. This harassment continues until the instructor is satisfied with the trainees’ performance.

Ok, this farmer is driving down the road in his truck and he comes to a state cop in the middle of the road with the blue flashing and everything, and the farmer asks, What's the problem, Officer? The cop looks worried and nods on ahead where this pig is sitting right in the middle of the road-big damn pig- and the cop says, Got a problem with this pig in the road. So the farmer says, Hmmm. And the cop says, Hey I got an idea, Why don't we load this pig into your truck and then you take him to the zoo? And the farmer says, Well, I reckon we could do that. So they load they pig into the farmer's truck and off the farmer drives and that's that. So the next day the cop is out there on the road again because that is his usual speed trap, and who do you think drives by? The farmer--and sitting right next to him in the cab is the pig. And the pig's wearing a baseball hat! The farmer and the pig just go cruising by. So the cop shakes off the unreality of the whole situation, fires up the blue flashing light and sirens and gets scratch in 3 gears tearing out after the farmer, and caught up pretty soon and pulls the farmer over and walks up to the truck. The farmer looks real casual and says, Yessir. The cop says, Hey, I thought I told you to take that pig to the zoo! And the farmer says, I did! We had a good time, too, so today I thought we'd go to the ball game. HA! HA! HA!

The plan was as simple as it was unattainable: All they had to do was to slip out of Sayda Bay and after entering the Barents Sea, submerge, poke their air-breathing snorkels above the surface, and trudge down to Cuba on diesel power at a submerged speed of nine knots. Without the Americans noticing.

According to Thucydides, in 414 BC during the siege of Syracuse in Sicily the Athenians sent men under the sea to saw through and clear wooden piles blocking the harbour mouth. They also broke underwater chains, all with the aim of enabling galleys carrying troops to enter harbour. Cutting the anchor cables of enemy vessels – so they would be driven ashore to destruction or collide with each other – was another favourite tactic. The earliest image of submerged men carrying weapons is a wall painting in the Nile Valley of duck hunters armed with spears stealthily approaching their prey while using reeds to suck in air. Aristotle claimed Greek combat divers used an early form of snorkel like the trunk of an elephant

Norway ~ Both Roald Dahl’s parents were from Norway. They spoke Norwegian to each other, and Roald and his sisters learned Norwegian before English. Roald visited Norway many times and took his own family there for holidays. They spent their time boating, fishing, snorkeling, and visiting a never-ending stream of Norwegian relatives. Do you know what this says? Jeg er en Roald Dahl vifte.

Romano could do with hearing. He’s arrived at the class thinking that for his work to be authentic he needs to personally construct every single aspect from scratch. It’s as if he’s tempted to don some snorkeling gear, collect mussels, and extract the L-DOPA himself. He doesn’t realize that science is a discipline that constantly and necessarily builds on pre-existing work—which doesn’t in any way undermine ingenuity and new discoveries.

Learning to leave his mind in meditation could be compared to snorkelling, which is breathing with his face under water. Which is just wrong! It had taken a lot of time and nagging for his brain to get used to snorkelling, for all those doubts and questions to be overcome - for him to relax and just breathe. Learning to leave his mind in meditation was the same kind of challenge; when there was a gap in his thoughts, when a space opened up, to resist the temptation to immediately fill it up - instead for him to relax and just breathe.

He probably wouldn’t notice if I wore a thong, a snorkel, and flippers to lunch.

some places in North America, notably the American South, trees such as baldcypress have root systems that spend a lot of time underwater. To get around the problem of submerged roots, baldcypress trees grow “knees.” These specialized roots rise out of the ground around the main trunk. (Yet another hazard to the unwary hiker if these roots are growing right in the trail, which can happen.) Cypress knees can grow up to ten feet (three meters) tall, which is tall enough to extend above the average high-water line, and they are thought not only to stabilize the trees in their watery environment, but also to help the roots breathe by transporting oxygen from the air to the parts that are submerged, acting as a kind of snorkel—although

Would you rather have an hour of Wife carrying or a day of Bog Snorkelling?

the Datura Avenue Shipwreck Snorkel Trail, just south of the pier at Commercial Boulevard.

DECEMBER 22 Parallel Universes Doubt, for me, tends to come in an overwhelming package, all at once. I don’t worry much about nuances of particular doctrines, but every so often I catch myself wondering about the whole grand scheme of faith. I stand in the futuristic airport in Denver, for example, watching important-looking people in business suits, briefcases clutched to their sides like weapons, pause at an espresso bar before scurrying off to another concourse. Do any of them ever think about God? I wonder. Christians share an odd belief in parallel universes. One universe consists of glass and steel and wool clothes and leather briefcases and the smell of freshly ground coffee. The other consists of angels and sinister spiritual forces and somewhere out there places called Heaven and Hell. We palpably inhabit the material world; it takes faith to consider oneself a citizen of the other, invisible world. Occasionally the two worlds merge for me, and these rare moments are anchors for my faith. The time I snorkeled on a coral reef and suddenly the flashes of color and abstract design flitting around me became a window to a Creator who exults in life and beauty. The time my wife forgave me for something that did not merit forgiveness—that too became a window, allowing a startling glimpse of divine grace. I have these moments, but soon toxic fumes from the material world seep in. Sex appeal! Power! Money! Military might! These are what matter most in life, I’m told, not the simpering platitudes of Jesus’ teachings in the Sermon on the Mount. For me, living in a fallen world, doubt seems more like forgetfulness than disbelief. I, a citizen of the visible world, know well the struggle involved in clinging to belief in another, invisible world. Christmas turns the tables and hints at the struggle involved when the Lord of both worlds descends to live by the rules of the one. In Bethlehem, the two worlds came together, realigned; what Jesus went on to accomplish on planet Earth made it possible for God someday to resolve all disharmonies in both worlds. No wonder a choir of angels broke out in spontaneous song, disturbing not only a few shepherds but the entire universe. Finding God in Unexpected Places (34 – 35)

I found a career where I could perform those acts of translation, and be a liaison, for groups to which I had no personal connection beyond my journalistic interest. My microphone and headset served as a snorkel and mask. When I strapped them on, I could enter colorful

I lower my goggles and place the snorkel in my mouth, speaking with it between my teeth. “Now I’m kiss proof.” “Only your lips.” He raises my hand to his mouth and kisses it. Damn him and his suave ways. It’s too early for me to be hyperventilating in this snorkel.

I’d rather be snorkeling in the sea of love. But instead I’m stuck here, in a fully paid, all-inclusive resort in the Caribbean.

It took five minutes for the barkeep to come around. He was an old salt—tall and thin. So grizzled he looked like he’d been here back when Ponce de León first showed up. Letty ordered a vodka martini. While he shook it, she eavesdropped on a conversation between an older couple seated beside her. They sounded midwestern. The man was talking about someone named John, and how much he wished John had been with them today. They had gone snorkeling in the Dry Tortugas. The woman chastised her husband for getting roasted in the sun, but he expertly steered the conversation away from himself. They talked about other places they’d been together. Their top three bottles of wine. Their top three sunsets. How much they were looking forward to a return trip to Italy. How much they were looking forward to Christmas next week with their children and grandchildren. These people had seen the world. They had loved and laughed and lived.

I like snorkeling, it's the only thing I'm able to do that makes me think I can fly.

Breathe in before the wave reaches you. If water gets into your snorkel, you just breathe out quickly and it will shoot the water back out.” With her eyes still closed, she nodded. She could feel his hands tightening, drawing her straight down, deeper into the water.

MYTH648. | Elephants are too heavy to swim. Elephants love water and can smell it from five miles away. They are also good swimmers and have been known to use their trunks as snorkels.

If I was in deep shit with Lilian before, I was snorkeling at the waste treatment plant now.

position an exploding seashell near where Fidel Castro snorkeled in Cuba. The iconic image of the hearings came when committee members passed around a pistol that the CIA had built to shoot poison darts and Senator Barry Goldwater pointed the gun into the air as he looked through its sights. CIA director William Colby tried to make clear that the weapon had never been used, but the image endured. Before the committee had even wrapped up its work, President Ford signed an executive order banning the government from carrying out assassinations of foreign heads of state or other foreign politicians.

hatch our survival plan in the coolest place we could find. We made our way into the cluttered room at the windowed front of the deckhouse—what our boat builders back in Hong Kong called the “lavish grand salon” in their sales brochures. With us, it was more like the messy rumpus room. True, the room had, as advertised, “a curved couch, sleek teak paneling, and hardwood cabinetry with a built-in sink.” But the sink had dirty dishes and empty soda bottles in it, the paneled walls were cluttered with a collection of my parents’ favorite treasures (including a conquistador helmet, a rare African tribal mask, a grog jug shaped like a frog, a rusty cannonball from a Confederate gunboat, a bronze clock covered with cherubs that probably belonged to King Louis XIV, and, in a glass shadow box, a rusty steak knife from the Titanic). There were assorted trinkets, necklaces, and coconut heads suspended from the ceiling. Add a heap of scuba and snorkel gear and assorted socks, shoes, and T-shirts on the floor (the floor is our laundry basket), and our grand salon looked more like a live-in recycling bin. “Have we even seen a map for this treasure hunt?” asked Beck. “Nope. Dad just said we needed to be in the Caymans.” “Then we need to find his map.

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It’s when you snorkel through a bog,” Zack told us. “My friends and I love cheese rolling,” said Miss Mary. “Let me guess,” I said. “You roll cheese?” “Yes!” said Miss Mary. “It happens on the Spring Bank Holiday. The cheese roller will roll a round cheese down a hill, and we all chase it. The winner is the first person to grab the cheese.” “It sounds very dangerous,” said Andrea.

When Mum moved out of her house and into the bungalow David had bought, we had a rigorous clear-out. The garage was full of junk belonging to Jacinta, Gavin and me. Books, comics, posters in tubes, fabric, snorkels, wellies, old exercise books filled with rickety graphs and essays covered in angry pen and lumpy Tipp-Ex. Everything got lobbed into a skip. Even things that weren’t in the garage like mismatched wine glasses and ornaments from holidays abroad. Letters were thrown away too. We threw out the letter that would have proven I wasn’t out of my fucking mind.

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Jason Hudak to head the platform team. Jason had worked at Yahoo for more than a decade, building the infrastructure to support their thousands of engineers. Jason is probably not what you imagine when you think of a software engineer. He’s a ruddy-faced Texan and a former Marine. He went to Texas Tech and studied business, not computer science. He’s more or less self-taught, having learned to write code after landing a job at a tech company in the 1990s and studying alongside engineers who recognized his potential. Jason spends his free time snorkeling, cycling, and hunting wild boars in Texas.

Did you see anything amazing?” Annie asked Jack. They were standing on the warm, sunny shore of Frog Creek Lake, packing up their new swimming gear—flippers, masks, snorkels, and red life vests. “Not really,” said Jack. “Weeds and rocks.” “Same here,” said Annie. “How was your new mask?” “Cool,” said Jack as he put his glasses back on. “It didn’t leak or fog up at all.” “Great,” said Annie, pulling a tunic over her bathing suit.

Snorkel is best invention. God bless snorkel inventor. It win peace prize?

Coral reefs provide food for hundreds of millions of people, with reef fish species comprising about one-quarter of the total fish catch in less developed countries. They serve as natural protective barriers, sheltering coastal communities from the waves generated by hurricanes, typhoons, and cyclones. They are also the basis of employment through tourism for millions of people in the many regions with reefs in their coastal waters. Apart from these ecosystem services, valued in many billions of dollars, coral reefs have tremendous intrinsic value that is impossible to quantify as anyone who has snorkelled or dived on a healthy reef can attest—without coral reefs our planet and human society would be infinitely poorer.

Walking in an ancient forest or snorkeling in a coral reef, I have felt an aliveness, a sense of many interlocking pieces clicking together into a living and dynamic whole. These are places that naturally exude abundance. Sadly, this feeling was lacking in any human-made landscape I had experienced. Natural landscapes seem so rich; they seethe with activity; they hum with life in comparison to our own. Why is it that nature can splash riotous abundance across forest or prairie with careless grace, while we humans struggle to grow a few flowers? Why do our gardens offer so little to the rest of life? Our yards seem so one-dimensional, just simple places that offer a few vegetables or flowers, if that much. Yet nature can do a thousand things at once: feed insects and birds, snakes and deer, and offer them shelter; harvest, store, and purify water; renew and enrich the soil; clean the air and scent it with perfume; and on and on.

On an Antarctic expedition in 1985 and ‘86, a man named Gareth Wood was walking on ice when a leopard seal emerged from a fissure and bit him on the leg. One of Wood’s companions kicked the seal repeatedly with his cramponed boot, drawing blood from its head, until it let go. It came back for a second bite. This time two companions kicked the seal; it let go for good. In 2003, a scientist with the British Antarctic Survey was snorkeling when a leopard seal seized and drowned her.

Most of what we call friendship is little more than acquaintanceship. But acquaintanceship is to friendship what snorkeling is to deep-sea diving. Snorkeling is fine, but skimming along the surface isn’t exploring the deep.

When I arrived at the Academy in 1952, I heard the rumor that there were some young ladies in town who would accommodate some of our chosen upperclassmen with their favors. These ladies were known to us as the Bunny, the Fox and the Snork, or Snorkel, for all the obvious reasons. Of course, it was a secret that couldn’t be kept, since the braggarts loved to tell tales of their dubious conquests. We heard detailed and descriptive accounts of how they went up to historic Fort George to meet up with these girls, hoping to get some sexual satisfaction. Of course, we all believed that the stories were true, as they most likely were, but as plebes, called muggs by the upperclassmen, none of us took part in this sport… or did we?

Elephants can swim for six hours straight in lakes and rivers using their trunks as snorkels.

tossed the mask and snorkel aboard and with surprising ease, pulled his upper body quickly out of the water, allowing his legs to find the rungs.  He reached back and unbuckled each fin, tossing them up and grabbing his towel in the same motion. He retrieved a bottle of orange juice from the small refrigerator and went forward to relax on the trampoline.  Peering at the larger island, he could make out the faint image of a jet ski skirting across the water.  It amazed him how many people loved noise.  Insistent that they need a break from the grind, they travel to a remote area to unwind, only to shop with a thousand other tourists, or zip across the bay on a rocket running at 80 decibels.  He smiled to himself and tipped his orange juice in their direction.  To each his own, he thought.  He should, in fact, be thankful.  If they were not over there, they would probably be here next to him.  With that, he stood up and squinted at the glimmering horizon.  Having to decide what to do every day was just the type of problem he wanted. His body suddenly stiffened.  The sound was extremely faint but unmistakable, and he felt a flutter of grim acceptance before reaching for the binoculars.  He wiped the water from his

By now, all the Farkles had been rounded up and were being herded back down the road toward the resort. “I PAID FOR A SNORKEL TRIP TO A CENOTE!” Edna Farkle proclaimed. “I HAD BETTER GET A REFUND FOR THIS, OR I WILL WRITE A VERY BAD REVIEW ONLINE. COMPRENDE?

There's so much testosterone in the air, even the women's voices have dropped an octave.

I treated the wound with antibiotic cream and let it close before doing any serious snorkeling—and incidentally, I do very much like the phrase serious snorkeling. If I could somehow figure out a way to incorporate the sentence I’m a serious snorkeler, bitchezz without it seeming like a gratuitous aside, I would. And I guess I just did. It’s magic, really.

even tries to snorkel under the plants, but when it comes up for air it gets blasted by a Repeater you’ve placed on a Lily Pad. Finally, the zombie wave stops. You collapse on the grass, exhausted. “Hey, anybody want to go swimming?” Matt asks. You think of the Tangle Kelp lurking under the water and shudder. “Um, I don’t think that’s a good

Attending creative writing courses is like snorkeling in a pool nearby Tubbataha.

continued through January, sending visitors fleeing back to the mainland like snorkelers

I don't mind snorkeling. I just wish the sharks would get out of the ocean and go sit on the sun loungers while I do it.

I see,” she interrupted crisply. “Snorkeling is too tame for you. Okay. Fine. I can think of something else. Quite honestly, I didn’t think that I would have to justify my adventure.” She speared him with a dry look. “And you are the one who pointed out that I must invent my own. Nevertheless,” she went on. “If snorkeling isn’t your style I’m certain that I can come up with something a little more…titillating. Let’s see,” she mused.

fantastic, rather like flying very slowly through the warm air. After that he went out on a Jet-Ski a couple of times, snorkelled for half an hour and then changed into shorts, polo shirt and deck shoes, put his wet swimming shorts into his rucksack and made his way up to the Ocean Hill. It was still only half-past twelve, far too early to appear for lunch. The rich lunched late. He went into the bar, got himself a glass of iced water and wandered outside to explore the grounds. They were spectacular, terraced gardens, complete with statues, lush green lawns, brilliant flowers, a great swathe of tennis courts, a large lake and what looked like a chapel. ‘Incredible, isn’t it?’ It was Bibi. ‘Hi. I saw you wandering round the courts. Tim and I were contemplating a game, but the standard seemed a little high. McEnroe was the last person to play here. Oh, and Gerulaitis.’ ‘Sounds challenging,’ said Joel, laughing. ‘Just a little bit. What are you doing now? Timmy’s gone to change.’ ‘Oh, just exploring.’ ‘Oh, OK. Well, I’ll maybe see you by the pool. That’d be nice.’ ‘Indeed.’ She smiled at him; she was the same height as he was. Her eyes lingered, rather pointedly, on his mouth. Confusing. Very confusing. ‘I’ll see you later then,’ she said. ‘Oh look, there’s Timmy coming now.’ And she leaned towards him and kissed him briefly, but quite firmly, on the mouth. ‘Tell me,’ said Joel to Allinson when he had greeted him, ‘what on earth is that place

In the midst of a routine expedition in March, the research boat accidentally sailed into the large oil slick, probably in the vicinity of the Gardner Pinnacles. Quickly taking samples and testing them in the boat’s small chemical laboratory, the scientists on board were horrified to discover the oil slick was heavily radiated. Later analysis of the oil slick identified Chinese fissile material and light diesel oil. The oil was of a type used by submarines to lessen the amount of smoke exhausted during snorkeling. The diesel engines of Golf submarines used a high-grade, nearly smokeless fuel called D-37. Attack submarines burned a different grade fuel called solar oil.