"Everything you can imagine is real"

Lately I’ve been thinking about memories and nostalgia and dreams and all those other things that are on the verge of reality.

I have this one particular memory from when I was around two or three years old. It definitely didn't happen, or at least it's highly improbable, as it no doubt would have turned me into a local legend (and put my grandmother in jail). The weird part, is that the memory has developed in my mind, or rather, my memory around the memory has developed, over the years.

In my head I have a clear image of me and my Grandma visiting Deep Sea World. We walked past the tanks of exotic fish, stood on that weird horizontal escalator thingy and watched the eels and sharks and stingrays, probably fingered some poor unsuspecting star fish, pointed delightedly at the sea lions, then went for some nice calming tea and juice.

The cafe at Deep Sea World in North Queensferry has glass walls, they let you look out at the giant tank where where they keep the fish. Obviously this is separate from the actual sea, but in my mind it wasn't. In my mind that bit of water might as well have gone on for eternity.

Cut from me looking through the glass, to me actually being through the glass. Somehow I’ve managed to get out a door and I’m in the middle of the sea holding onto a red buoy. A crisp packet floats past (I'm not really sure why that particular detail has stuck with me) and I can see my Grandma just sitting there on the other side of the glass, and the open door that I fell out of, and I’m panicking because I know there are sharks in here and she’s not even doing anything, just sitting there, smiling.

That’s how I see that memory in my mind. Just like that. I’m not sure if my Grandma has ever even taken me to Deep Sea World, never mind left me in the middle of their shark tank.

According to my parents however, that memory used to be slightly different. According to them, when I was around five I had a habit of telling strangers that my Mum had pushed me into the Forth (the name of the sea next to Deep Sea World). Apparently the details, including the red buoy and the crisp packet remained the same.

I however, have no memory of this alternative version of events, and no memory of ever telling it to unsuspecting strangers, which is weird, because I never did fall into the water at Deep Sea World, but I did tell people it had happened. Which means something that never actually happened feels more real to me than something that definitely did.

Day Zero Project | #59 Write a Letter to Myself...

...For after the 1001 days have finished. 

This ended up being a surprisingly long letter, I have a lot to say to my future self. I'm sure 25-year-old Molly will be highly amused at her younger self. I'm not going to post the whole thing here, well not now anyway, maybe one day, maybe in 1001 days, we'll see. So for now here's a snippet and proof that it's done.

"I always think back on my life so far and think, 'Damn, I wish I could go back to being 20, or 18 or even 15. I wish I could go back, knowing what I know now and do things differently. Not too differently, I love where my life has taken me, but I wish I had been a better person, a healthier person, I wish I read more books and procrastinated less.' Do not let us wish the same thing at 25. Do not let us have those same regrets because they bloody suck. I will never be able to go back in time and do more with the years that have past, but I can do more with our time right now. And then it’ll be up to you to do more with our future..."

A Week In Photographs | #2

This week I had a holiday booked off work, a minor miracle since August is our second busiest time of the year after Christmas (one of the perks of working on Princes Street). My old manager is a Goddess and put it through ages ago. Which meant so many festival fun times. I just could not stay away.

I've seen 17 shows so far, almost all of which have been hilarious/ beautiful/ generally wonderful. Personal recommendations and faves so far are Rhys Nicholson, Mae Martin, Stephen K Amos and The Noise Next Door. Also, my parents and I saw a beautiful circus act yesterday called Wings in My Heart by Rigolo Swiss Nouveau Cirque.

This has been a week of Edinburgh adventures and wandering, a sad goodbye to an old flatmate and friend before she sods off travelling, list making and goal setting, lots of laughing with lots of friends, sleeping on sofas, beer gardens, cafes and festival street food and many, many train rides. 

The Day Zero Project

I recently re-discovered the Day Zero Project, also known as 101 in 1001 (101 goals to be completed in 1001 days). My last attempt (from 2011) was pitiful. I didn't even manage to think up all 101 goals, never mind complete them, and it got me thinking, what the hell have I been doing?

In 2011 I was 18 years old, and to be fair, I've managed to achieve quite a lot these past few years. I passed my driving test, gave blood, ran a marathon, finished college, quit my job, moved abroad, travelled to 11 different countries, and did a lot of slightly less significant things in-between.

On the outside it probably looks like I'm an incredibly pro-active person, but truthfully, I'm just good at making big, scary decisions and then forcing myself (internally kicking and screaming) to follow through with them. I'm not actually very good at working towards larger goals. I'm way too lazy and enjoy sleep way too much, so things like practise yoga every day or become conversational in Spanish get ignored.

Today I made a new list, this one's due to finish on May 13th 2018, when I'll be 25 (and a half) years old. So here's to round two, to new adventures, to facing fears and fighting laziness. Here's to the next two years, nine months of my life.

#TBT | Five Inches of New York Meat

Throwback to when I was 16 and still a big time carnivore. Excerpt from my mandatory report on the DHS American Exchange Programme experience.  



Certainly the largest sandwich I have ever eaten, or should I say conquered as yes, I really did eat all of it and yes, I am proud of myself. Despite almost puking and not being able to move for several hours afterwards, I think it was worth it.

It was our first night in the city, and literally everything I saw, ate and did was making me squeal with disbelief and excitement. I mean, everything was just so...so American. XXL and supersized.

This sandwich was the first sandwich I ate in NYC and by the time it arrived I was at the stage of hunger where your mouth starts watering constantly and your stomach begins to ache. I was basically starving to death whilst surrounded everywhere by the smells and sounds of people eating delicious, enormous sandwiches.

We'd gone to the Carnegie Deli, which I soon learnt Americans pronounce wrong. Guys, Andrew Carnegie came from the same town as me, I am right, don't even bother screwing up your face at me, I know we're in your country but I visited the house he grew up in when I was nine, so there.

The deli is a kitschy little place, every inch of available wall covered with framed photographs of celebrities and tables squidged together so closely it feels like one giant dinner party, which I personally found adorable but anyone who gets claustrophobic might not feel the same way.

Disclaimer: for the full dining experience, you probably shouldn't eat anything for approximately three days before your visit, and wear stretchy pants.