Catherine Titasey drifted around the world until she was pulled in the current to Thursday Island for a brief visit. Fourteen years later, she's still there and writes and paints to stay sane from the stress and chaos of four children, two step-daughters, a fishing-obsessed husband and his two businesses she manages with no idea of what to do.

One of the first things you’ll hear about, or experience rather, on Thursday Island is ‘TI Time’, a relaxed – more like non-existent – schedule that affects all levels of life on this Timeless Isle.

I experienced it regularly during the quiet hours in the bar and would have come close to certifiable insanity were it not for the Learn French textbook I’d concealed under the till.

The concept of ‘rubber time’ is endemic to many Pacific and SouthEast Asian communities and it’s a good thing too. I recently read a quote by a Latin poet, Ovid, who said something along the lines of "being too busy can hurt love".

That makes a lot of sense. Relationships with loved ones can suffer when work is given priority. I suppose the converse would apply, that if you are not busy, even bored, you might fall in love.

Only I didn’t know any of this at the time and I suspect that if I did this ancient wisdom would have suffered at the tip of Cupid’s arrow.

One quiet day, while I was conjugating the future tense of the verb, aimer, "to love", a gorgeous, dark, smiling Adonis appeared and asked for a soft drink, which in itself was unusual; this was a pub on Thirsty Island.

I lived by a few tried and trusty values such as "treat others as you want to be treated" and "help those who need help".

I’ve even added a few of my own such as "always wear matching lingerie" and "you can never have too many pairs of shoes" (you can on TI, but not thongs).

But for some reason, either my boredom, the smoky, beery atmosphere or the difficulty I had with the French future tense, I was distracted and failed to adhere to the most important of all my values: "Stay away from handsome, charismatic men because they are trouble."

When Tony asked me to accompany him on a "dinghy ride" I willingly followed, as the ’80s music blasting from the juke box drowned out the warning bells.

And a good thing too or I would never have experienced the adventure I sought before my inevitable fate of life in the suburbs.

Essentially, my dream came true and I was rescued by this handsome fisherman and we sailed off into the sunset, many times.

Under the tutelage of Tony and in his dinghy, I became a commercial fisherman.

After sailing into the sunset, we’d camp on islands. With an esky, one single swag and a box of dry goods, we worked from before dawn to late morning, trolling, line fishing or crayfishing.

When we weren’t fishing, we took long walks and swims, explored uninhabited islands and slept under the stars. Three days of paradise at a time wasn’t enough, but that’s as long as the ice would last.

We’d then return to civilisation to sell the product and organise our next trip.

I learned valuable skills such as cutting the flesh from the head of a trevally, how to siphon fuel without swallowing and finding those secret fishing spots without the aid of a GPS.

The adventure was finite, so I thought. I recall thinking, I hope this lasts two weeks. Then, I hope it lasts another two weeks.

I am not sure if it is the enduring quality of TI Time, or the mide (sorcery) that Tony claims to have worked on me, but a good many years have passed in what feels like an instant, and I am still here, still on the adventure.

Ovid would be pleased that, although we are busy, work has never taken priority over ‘us’.

In short, we upgraded from the dinghy to a small commercial fishing vessel, so small, in fact, that it was unsuitable for the cyclone season in the Torres Strait and we had to spend a good deal of time on anchor.

That led to the next adventure … parenthood.

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