Names matter. Words matter. They insinuate and symbolise things. They can form and shape history. They transmit messages and meaning to our brains: when you hear of a reef named Marion or a coral cay named Lady Elliot, I think there is an assumption that someone must have thought that this place was beautiful and unique enough to protect it.
I was not sure how long I had been hovering there, wondering why these fish with their forlorn-looking stare had decided that I was worthy of becoming the centre of their social pack, but I tried as hard as I could not to move. I did not want to scare off my new fishy friends.
A silver-haired woman with a warm gentle face approached us and proudly introduced herself as the nation’s first police-woman.