I Never Thanked a Man Who Saved Me From Drowning.

I lived in Clacton-on-Sea in Essex between the years 1979 and 1984. Everyday during the summer we would head down to the beach for a while. It was a five minute walk from our house. One time the tide was out and me and a friend headed out for a swim. I had had swimming lessons, but I wasn't a very good swimmer. My feet were on the sea bed for most of the time, then I suddenly reached a part where the sea bed dropped. I started to get into trouble. I held onto my friend but quickly realised he couldn't carry me out of danger so I had to let go. I started to drown. I could see off to my left (when facing the beach) a concrete jetty, where there was man standing right at the end. He saw me and got into the sea and walked over to me, lifted me up into his arms and carried me to safety. He left me in the shallow water and I ran as quickly as possible to my mother who was sat on the sand. Before I had a chance to acknowledge him, the man who saved me had gone. I told my mum what had happened and began to cry. I then realised that I never thanked him and my mum didn't thank him either. I would love to thank him. I was only about six or seven at the time and I have long since left Clacton.

At the time I thought this man was very tall, but the fact was I wouldn't now know whether he was tall or not, because I was small. He was in his twenties or thirties. I remember more or less what he looked like, but I don't think it would be very easy to recognise him now. I am 44 years old, so it would have been over 35 years ago. He would be at least 55 years old now. I guess I'll never know.