That summer, I spent a week with my cousin and her husband in west Wales. One of her husband's jobs was a fisherman. On my first day there, he asked me if I wanted to get up early the following morning and go out on his boat to pick up lobsters.
I thought it was an interesting proposition and took him up on the offer.
And I bloody loved it. So much, in fact, that I did it for almost every day I was there.
We'd wake up at the crack of dawn and drive down to the beach and spend hours on the boat going from buoy to buoy picking up the pots to haul in the lobsters to sell on to, I believe, local restaurants.
It was an experience that has remained with me to this very day.
Looking back, I recall walking back up the hill - on my own - after one of those trips and thinking to myself how cool it was to have woken up at silly o'clock in the morning and to have completed a day's work by lunchtime.
Not that I can call what I did 'work'. I was simply there for the ride.
Those mornings gave me an appreciation for the jobs people in that line of work do. And I am not missing out on the fact that I did it in the summer. It must be harder doing that gig in the colder seasons.
It was one of the most enjoyable things a young city boy - like I was back then - could have done. I have so many fond memories of those mornings. Little things like songs from 1995 - that were on the radio we would listen to - always brings back fond memories.
As did those socks on Christmas morning...