Telle est la vie for the Wife of The Diving Adventure Guru (aka Dag)

In Jest By Lindsay Brennand

Now it has been said that going down with The DAG transforms an ordinary dive into an extraordinary experience……. Of course it was said by me… and as his wife I may be bias….. NAH!

According to the great book of words – the dick and harry, the definition of a Guru is someone who knows A LOT about a certain subject…… and my man knows an awful lot about what he likes and besides me of course he likes diving adventures best!

So there I was just hanging about on a Sunday, not doing too much of anything - as it should be and I hear a pop! Hmm I thought to myself what could that be? Next minute The Diving Adventure Guru or as I like to call him: The DAG saunters up casually balancing a glass of a fairly descent red in one hand and something I couldn’t quite make out in the other. Now The DAG knows I am quite partial to a drop of the good stuff so I was thinking to myself – he be a wanting somethin! Now don’t get me wrong he’s real smooth and charming is my man, but I knows him… I knows him real good. I knew I was in bona fide trouble when the eyebrows started to gyrate and the lashes started to flutter. Oh bugger the realization hit me… he’s got himself another one of those bloody dive holiday brochures……

Anyway to cut a long story short, Monday morning I find myself with an empty bottle of red, a horrendously sore back and a glowing hubby all set to sign up for his next diving adventure holiday. It occurs to me…. rather belatedly unfortunately, that I may be overly susceptible to persuasion in light of my two small vices (red wine and The DAG). So succumbing to the inevitable I ask for a rundown of this latest opportunity to get some great pics and anecdotal funnies - for his teaching purposes ……… of course!

So after several extra shifts and some penny pinching for a couple of months he’s all set to go…. well at least I thought he was! Now I consider myself to be an understanding wife but I have to say that I did some serious reconsideration of that stance when The DAG insisted he needed a whole new 5.0 mega pixel digital camera, underwater housing, strobes and the like. He broaches the subject quite logical like… ‘Honey, sweetie, how can you possibly expect me to take truly excellent pictures the kind that you can tell how perfectly gorgeous and beautiful you are and not just a faceless diver?’ he asks of me. Besides he continues I really need to start taking pictures I can submit to competitions and use in my teaching? I mean really… all he has is his not as fantastic, film based underwater camera he purchased 6 months ago – you know that one he absolutely HAD to have to be a serious underwater photographer! Ah well, telle est la vie (such is life), I decided to live up to my understanding wife credos, visited the bank manager and got him fitted out for some serious shooting! So now he REALLY was set to go!

So there I am in the international terminal, baby on hip (the other five are at home being baby sat thank god) looking at the receding back of my gorgeous guy, The DAG as he swankers off down the departure tunnel. I start thinking to myself again…. and this time the thoughts are not good…. I mean jez what was I bloody thinking? Call the psych emergency team they got themselves a major contender here!!!! What sane minded woman agrees to an overseas diving adventure for her husband while she sits at home and puts up with the buggers feral offspring. Dam that mans good… hell I must have been having a blonde moment or something – excuse the aphorism … I mean really… how the man can take pictures of me if I’m not even there… The mind boggles!! Talk about being conned big time… Note to self – have sucker tattoo removed from forehead.

So I mope on home, the kids are in bed – phew… I pull back the covers on the bed to find a supply of fairly decent red wine, a taping of The DAG’s snoring (in case I can’t sleep without it – yeah right) and a semi clothed photo of The DAG!!! Hey all is not lost I be thinking…. So I stick the picture to my computer, which is set up next to my side of the bed for convenience purposes, turn on the big screen TV at the end of the bed, pop the cork of my fairly decent red and enjoy the vision of Johnny Depp in his latest video. Now relaxed and not feeling quite as ripped off as before my thoughts turn to The DAG…..

It has been said that going down with The DAG transforms an ordinary dive into an extraordinary experience……. Of course it was said by me… and as his wife I may be bias….. NAH! So I’m thinking who am I to deny his fellow adventurers the opportunity to experience The DAG’s special insight into diving or the opportunity to be entertained in the extreme, I’m not sure how but everything he does or say’s ends up being weird or funny. Now I’m not saying that The DAG is a diving god but I have to say and I say it with pride, my man, The DAG to his credit gets you involved! His passion is addictive and of many he has made an addict for life… including myself. So committed to these thoughts the days passed in a haze….

Like all dedicated and true divers….. you know those who were born to leave bubbles… they feel the world beneath the waves begs to be discovered, not to mention it’s quiet under there with no kids screaming and fighting! The DAG loves this entrancing world that lives hidden, shrouded and mysterious- laying peacefully waiting for him to exult and get down in its secrets. Of course like any mistress she ain’t gonna always give it up easily… Now The DAG he’s getting use to this theme… A few thousand dollars worth of you beaut photography equipment and he comes back after 10 days with a handful of I’m still getting the hang of it photos! But hey he had fun and that’s what diving is all about!

Day 10, a few minutes after midnight, there I am baby on hip again… unfortunately no sitter this time so I’m surrounded by screaming, tired and cranky kiddies, The DAG saunters on through the arrivals gate… After a quick peck on the cheek, did you miss me honey and an I’m knackered let’s go home the endearment The DAG started to take on a few new meanings for me like: Desperately Asking for Garrotting and Dickhead Asshole Goat herder. Still after a decent kiss, a night time of cuddles and that resonating snore all is restored.

So here I find myself, it’s been a couple of months and my vices remain unchanged! …… unfortunately I had forgotten to get the tattoo removed from my forehead and it’s Sunday…. Oh no! did I hear a familiar pop sound?