My dad spent his life on the waves, but never among them. He was a passionate fisherman who could read the waters off the Essex coast as accurately as any sonar device. He must have spent years of his life – literally years – away from dry land. But he never learned to swim.

“<i>You only need to swim if you fall in</i>,” he always joked. “<i>And I don’t intend to fall in.</i>”

And you know what? He never did. Not once in seventy years.

We didn't have much growing up, but our parents worked hard to ensure my sister and I never went without. In Dad's case that meant supplementing his postman's income by spending every spare hour on his boat, casting lines into the Thames Estuary. Later, he’d knock on the kitchen doors of restaurants along our town’s seafront, to sell the day's catch. (Most of it, anyway. He always kept one or two in reserve - a seabass here, a plaice there - for the family dinner table.)

On weekends I'd often go out with him. In truth I wasn’t a talented angler, and I definitely lack the chutzpah Dad showed when haggling prices with some grumpy chef. I just loved being at sea. I loved the space and the fresh, salty air. I loved the erratic but strangely calming lilt of the boat on the waves. Mind you, I also enjoyed the rollercoaster feeling of being rocked by choppy waters. I was never scared of tumbling overboard. In that respect at least, I was my father's son.

Most of all I loved coming home. The best days were the ones when we’d fished right out in the middle of the Estuary, near the shipping lanes, and faced a long ride back to shore. The boat’s engine sat in the middle of the deck, encased in a large wooden box. I’d sit or curl up on top of the box, warmed by the engine like a cat warmed by a fire, drinking the last of the tea from our flask and watching the cold, green-grey waves. Just watching them, thinking.

As an adult I spent two decades living inland, in cities. But I never lost that love of the sea. Even now nothing calms me like the sound of it, the scent of it. My dad and I followed different paths in many ways, but no matter how far apart life sent us I hope he knew that in my mind I was always out there with him, on the water. I was always coming home.