The thing about the ocean is that, unless you’re under it, it can make you extremely seasick, and worried about what’s under it. I recall dreams, nay, nightmares of inundation not long before I rocketed off to Mars. My darling mother, Mrs On Mars, reassured me that it was simply the terror of space travel and my fear of being torn apart by G-forces when I clearly prefer C-forces (c for cat, obviously). Anyway, made it to Mars, found the ice, chipped some off and settled down with a Tuna Daquiri and some smoked eel pie (mmm, smoked eeellllllll). Chin, chin, or is it chihuahua, chihuahua? Whatever.