Edinburgh smells like Cornpops. Honestly, it really does. My friend Zarah and I noticed it last year and spent ages trying to figure out what the cause of it was. Unsurprisingly, typing, “why does Edinburgh smell like Cornpops” into Google was unfruitful. Asking around didn’t’ help either considering Cornpops don’t exist in the UK, and trying to describe them proved very difficult. Luckily Zarah’s grandfather led us in the right direction and pointed out that most city scents were caused by the nearby distilleries and breweries. For awhile I thought we were crazy for thinking it smelled more like a childhood sugary cereal rather than booze, but sure enough Chris came home from work one day and pointed out the exact same observation I had made before. Cereal scents aside, this week is all about our abode as friends back home have been asking for details and we are nothing if obliging. Given that it is our first place together, neither Chris nor I had any visions of Buckingham palace. Considering when my parents first arrived in Canada they were using penicillin drums from my Dad’s work as furniture, we’re doing rather well. We live in a mews house in the west end of Edinburgh, a quick walk to the main stretch and dangerously close to some delicious eateries. Mews houses are an Edinburgh quirk and are the remainders of old stables that peppered the streets behind the larger row houses. Ours is a relatively recently renovated garage. It’s pokey and small and wonderful. I live in a perpetual hunt for coziness so our flat is littered with blankets, candles, and fairy lights and feels full of warmth. Metaphorical warmth. It’s actually freezing because our heat is criminally expensive. All the walls show photos and artwork from back home and there’s not a single spot that doesn’t have something meaningful. Being away from family and friends has made cards and photos all that more precious and we display them with ample affection. I’ve had many a daydream over the past decade as to what Chris and my place would be like and I really couldn’t be happier. Sure it’s exorbitantly expensive, and damp, and has the occasional bout of mould and spiders, but it’s ours. And there’s not a day goes by where I’m not eternally grateful for how lucky we are to be living in such a wonderful place, and where I’m not thankful to come home at the end of the day (even if our wood door has currently swollen due to weather and requires some serious shoulder checking to get it open or closed).
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April 2019
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