Hello Reader, This week on the water Trish and I escaped February in England by fleeing to the balmy south. As I write this, I am perched in a house high above False Bay. A hundred metres from the shore beneath me the rising tide surges against a rock that looks like nothing so much as a whale, its head bowed beneath the surface, preparing for a deep dive. We are only a kilometre or two away from the kelp forest in which Craig Foster made his acquaintance with the octopus, and which was...