"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.

#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.

#TBT | The Night I Left Egypt, For Good

*This is an excerpt from my diary just before I left Egypt for the last time. The six months that I spent living in Dahab on the Red Sea coast, working in a tiny little hotel, was one of the happiest times of my grown up life. Much later, after several sad goodbyes, a few naps, one enormous packing session and a good old scrub up of my soon to be ex-bedroom, I left Alf Leila Boutique Hotel for good, in the middle of the night. Over 36 hours later (after near misses with wandering camels and actually missing a connecting flight, a whole accidental day spent exploring the streets of Istanbul on two hours sleep and eating so much Turkish delight that I could've puked) I was back in my hometown.