When my sister and I were little, our uncles brought us to Princes Street gardens and bought us an ice cream each. Like every cartoon of an ice cream, it was a tall Mr Whippy with a crumbly flake poking out of the side. Yet the game changer was the raspberry sauce, pooling into the…
In a few months, I will turn 25 and apart from the occasional glance at quarter-life-crisis listicles that somehow reappear at the top of Buzzfeed curiously late at night when I should be sleeping and wondering where everything is headed, I feel pretty secure where I am. I have a good job, I have lovely…