I was the neoprene queen – Jacques Cousteau had nothing on me. Suckered into a tight black wetsuit, weight-belt on, the air-tank octopus grazing the back of my head, and my knees buckling under the burden of it all, I waited. Perspiration streamed down my face and prickled the back of my neck as I swayed heavily in the sweltering sun, eager to make my ungainly splash into the cool Coral Sea, off the north-east coast of Australia.