Shite it's cold.
Down at Woolamai for a Sunday dash, nice little waves on a busy but happy bank that rapidly filled up, but not before I snagged a few very fun little zippers. Didn't make a complete fool of myself so all was good with the world. If only I could feel my toes.
Sitting out the back and having a chat, and this fella casually mentions he saw a 3 metre Great White out there the day before, everyone cleared the water quick smart, he said, as it cruised through the line up.
Just then a wave appears that's "mine, mine all mine!!!" and... as I paddle for it and am just about to pop up, I hear another casual voice saying, " Yeah .. a mate of mine got eaten last year...'
As I take off I go "oh really" in an off hand way, as you would if he'd said he just bought a bottle of milk.
At the end of the ride I'm thinking...did I hear that right?
Naturally when I paddled back out I followed up and indeed one of his best friends had been a boat skipper or something running charters off the Abrolhos Islands in Western Australia. Seems the guy had just jumped over the side to paddle over to join the crew in the surf when a Very Big White struck, cut him in half, he lolled back eyes open in shock for a moment before it came in and took the rest.
When was the last time you heard a golfer tell a story like that?