I escaped the fall of Atlantis
Why was I so obsessed with the ocean?
I ’d searched everywhere. ‘Where’s Ariel?’ I asked anxiously. I was six years old and absolutely devoted to my plastic model of Disney’s Little Mermaid. I carried the mermaid doll round with me, slept with it at night.
Just being separated from her now made me feel anxious and panicky. As tears started to well up in my eyes, Mum shoved the red-haired doll into my hands.
‘There she is. It’s all fine now,’ she said soothingly.
I hugged Ariel to me happily, feeling my heart and spirits lift as I looked into her big green eyes.
Obsession
Mermaids always had that effect on me. As a small child, I was absolutely obsessed by them. My parents let me cover my room in mermaid wallpaper, hang mermaid curtains at the windows. They thought it was just a phase – but by the time I reached my twenties, I still hadn’t grown out of it!
I’d watch the Disney film over and over – and also the ‘80s film
Splash, which featured Daryl Hannah as a mermaid-turned-human who falls in love with Tom Hanks’ character Allen Bauer.
Mermaidlore
I was fascinated by their beauty, their mystery, their mythology. I read avidly about the Sirens, how they’d lure ships onto the rocks by hypnotising the sailors with their hauntingly beautiful songs. In Ireland, mermaids are known as merrow, and in Scotland, a ceasg is a fresh-water mermaid.
But there was more to it than that. I had an almost pathological need to be near water at all times.
As a child, I spent every weekend badgering my mum to take me to the local swimming pool. When we went on holidays, I’d spend every waking moment in the pool or the sea. Even reading a book, I’d lie there with my arm or feet dangling into the water.
I was at my happiest floating in the sea. As the waves lapped around me, I’d feel my troubles literally float away, leaving me feeling free, relaxed, reborn.
Loneliness
The ocean had an elemental, spiritual pull for me that I just couldn’t explain.
But I felt…lonely. My family humoured me, but they didn’t really understand my obsession. My friends didn’t get it, either. At times, even I wondered where my obsession came from!
One day, I was browsing the internet when I stumbled across a website for a company in Cornwall that offered mermaid training courses!
Called Freedive UK, it featured a stunning photo of a woman swimming underwater with the help of a shimmering golden tail.
‘ Ever dreamed of swimming among the fish without the aid of breathing apparatus, silent and at peace….with a mermaid tail?’ I read aloud. The answer to that was a great big yes!
Learningprocess
I booked onto the six-day residential course on the beautiful Maltese island of Gozo.
And a few weeks later, in October 2015, I found myself on a rocky beach on the Mediterranean coast,
I was fascinated by the Sirens and their songs
being taught how to free dive.
It wasn’t easy. I couldn’t wait to try my mermaid’s tail on, but first I had to learn how to swim deep under water while holding my breath for up to two minutes.
It took a lot of trust. The first day, I couldn’t get the hang of it at all. That night, I sobbed into my pillow. It sounds crazy, I know, but I felt like my dream of being a mermaid was being snatched from my grasp.
The instructor and fellow delegates on my course were amazingly supportive.
‘Don’t worry, it’ll come,’ they all promised me.
Despite myself, I couldn’t help but grin. It was the first time I’d been around people who were as passionate about mermaids as I was.
It was so liberating to be able to chat about my obsession with likeminded souls.
Success
And they were right! Soon, I was diving down to the depths of 11 metres without the aid of breathing apparatus, using a scuba monofin.
‘You’re ready for your tail,’ the instructor smiled. My eyes lit up as I caught sight of the glittery, synthetic tail. It was heavy, but it seemed to fit me like a glove.
And as I slithered into the water, an incredible feeling of freedom exploded out from inside me.
I’ve always been a strong and confident swimmer – but with the tail, I felt like I was flying!
The underwater world was clearer, too. As I swam past shoals of brightly-coloured fish, past long waving fronds of seaweed, past rocks dotted with anemones and limpets, I got the strongest sense that we were all connected.
I’m meant to be here, I thought. Makingconnections Flying back to England, to my job in PR and marketing, brought me back to earth with a bump – but I felt stronger, happier now that I knew there were fellow real-life mermaids out there. I ordered myself a pink fabric mermaid tail from a company in the USA. At £100 plus postage, it was expensive – and as I tore open the packaging in delight, I realised I had a problem. I had nowhere to wear the tail! I couldn’t wear it in my local swimming pool – it wasn’t allowed for health and safety reasons. I didn’t live near the sea, and in any case, the British coast is no place for swimming without a wetsuit, except on the hottest of days!
I rang all the local hotels with pools, to see if I could hire the facilities, but they either said no, or came back with an eye-watering price I couldn’t afford. One place quoted £10,000!
But I'd had an idea. By now, I’d found a number of mermaid communities online, realised we all had the same problem.
Onlinecommunity
So, in June 2016, I decided to set up a national meet for British mermaids. I set up a website, Merfolk UK, and hired out the swimming facilities at Dulwich College in London.
Our first meetup, in March 2017, was a huge success. It was a ticketed event, and hundreds of fellow mermaids turned up. We all had our own tails, and had an amazing time showing off our swimming skills, as well as chatting and exchanging stories about our mermaid lifestyles.
It got me thinking: where does this obsession come from? Why do a surprising number of people – mainly women, but some men too – identify so strongly as mermaids?