Freeing the fish was a selfish act

To misquote "Ol' Blue Eyes" aka the late Frank Sinatra in the eponymous "My Way", regrets, I've had a ton.

When I saw those two beautiful, stippled fish in the bucket at Uncle Laurie and Auntie Shirley's house, my heart went out to them.

How was I to know the pain and hurt I was about to unknowingly inflict by my desperate desire to set them free?

I was only about eight years old but I had a sudden, childish urge to release the floundering duo back into the ocean.

For one thing, they had no room to turn in the confines of that plastic bucket and their mouths were gaping open then shut as they gasped to live.

I was an animal lover, having many times tried to nurse back to health broken-winged birds and abandoned baby mice. All to no avail so I was in much need of a success story.

I burst into tears at the sight of those fish. Auntie Shirley (my namesake incidentally) swept me up in her arms and hugged me for the longest time.

"They're your brother's first catch and your Uncle wants to keep them fresh," she explained.

My younger brother was mad keen on fishing and our annual sojourns to stay with our relatives were the only chance he got to cast a line.

Despite her careful rationale, I begged her to help me release them.

She caved and furtively, at sundown, we made our way down to the beach. Luckily, it was calm and I waded out as far as I could still stand and lowered the bucket into the gentle waves.

With tail-slapping glee, the shimmering duo shot off into the sea. Ecstatic and with my arms raised in triumph, I spun around to look at my Aunt standing on the shore.

I thought she'd feel as elated as me but instead she looked downcast and afraid.

Of what? I briefly wondered but the thought passed quickly. Little did I know that my question should have been reframed as: "Of whom?"

Later, when I was supposed to be asleep, I heard my Uncle's muffled shouting and then the bang of his fist pounding the breakfast table.

Worse still, I heard my beloved Auntie and afternoon's partner-in-crime, remonstrating with him tearfully. Meanwhile, my little brother was crying his eyes out in the twin bed next to me.

It was the bad old days when wives did what their husbands told them to do, or else. Of course, I had no understanding of that brutal dynamic until much later.

Career-wise, knocking back a job as a researcher on a major TV news program because I wanted to be in front of the camera was an absolute doozy.

To my horror, I found out later that that was how all the best reporters on the show had gotten their feet in the door.

Vainglorious me just kiboshed a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. It goes without saying that I never got another chance to break into television.

Another career regret was when I was sub-editing on a major Sunday newspaper and an inconspicuous, mousy little man approached me and said "Great heading for tomorrow's front page. Do you have time to grab a quick coffee with me?" to which I said: "Sorry, no, I'm a bit too busy, maybe another time?".

He nodded somewhat surprised and wandered off. It was only then that I realized all the other subs had stopped their feverish typing and were staring at me open-mouthed. "You just said 'no' to the managing editor," someone said.

All the back-peddling in the world couldn't save me that day. Another missed opportunity to move into top-flight journalism.

Now that I'm older, my biggest general regret in life is that I didn't listen more. I just had to cut in with my own story, opinion or anecdote and missed out on important information which could have sign-posted this journey called life a lot better for me.

If I'd listened, I might have learned about the shortcuts, the dead ends and the best views but I am impatient and self-important. I have had to work on that ... hard.

In the back of an Uber just that other day, I realised I was doing most of the talking so I just shut up and listened.

The other woman, whom I didn't know very well but who was on the way to the same event at me, then proceeded to recount excerpts from a pretty fascinating life including two TEDx talks and a charity trek with a bunch of spoilt B-List celebrities through the awe-inspiring Kimberley Mountains in the remote north of Western Australia.

As for embarrassing moments, I guess the first one I can remember quite vividly was when I was allocated the role of the donkey in the Nativity play at my kindergarten.

Reason being was that the previous year, I had been an angel and when I first flitted across the stage, people had smiled and chuckled at how cute I was.

I thought they were laughing AT me, mockingly if you will, to which I promptly threw down my tinsel-covered wire halo, stomped my foot and hollered: "Stop laughing at me!"

The donkey suit was my penitence. I guess you could say I make a real jackass of myself, the first time of many.