His town was shrinking, and Greg Wadhams was determined to shrink with it. So on a cold December night in 2006, the 55-year-old commercial fisherman sat down to say goodbye to the past. He devoured a spread of chicken chow mein, fried rice and deep-fried prawns to triumphant delight. Then, with the final bite, he bade farewell to his favourite foods.

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I come from the low lands. Peaty, primordial ooze was my playground. Frogs, slugs and bugs entertained me.

As kids roaming in Richmond during the 1960s we made sport of leaping across ditches and taunting those less nimble that dropped into the muck. But better still, the bog just down the railway track was our own world away from civilization. I learned to appreciate nature there. The seasons were stamped upon my senses.