David Attenborough at 99: 'I will not see how the story ends'
My earliest memory of the ocean is of a tropical lagoon. Ammonites rose and fell in the warm water column, occasionally propelling themselves forwards, their curled ram’s horn shells surprisingly streamlined in the water. This tropical lagoon was in fact in my imagination, fired as I explored the old limestone quarry near my childhood home in Leicester, some 60 miles from the coast. For a small boy in the 1930s this was a marvellous place for adventures, and the knowledge that millions of year