1. Most likely to request a Magnum. . .

This past weekend was spent in Edinburgh - something of a reunion for 4 of us who lived together for several years in Dublin. Thanks go to Kirsty, who was a wonderful host, and to whom I promised I would blog the following:

As a child I would stand back and watch as my younger brother would sample new food with consistent enthusiasm – at McDonald's he would try something new from the menu everytime. By the time he’d got as far down the menu as Filet O’ Fish, I was only contemplating that I might one day forego a Hamburger for a Quarter Pounder. When given a Soda Stream for his birthday, I stood back and watched while drinking my beloved Ribena – which to this day I still drink daily. I never did like bubbles.

But it was at countless ice cream vans that the difference between my brother and I would become most memorably manifest. Crazy Feet, Tangle Twisters, some bright green thing in the shape of a frog, a cone with bubblegum at the bottom - he tried them all – never the same thing twice. I, meanwhile, always played it safe – wanted to be guaranteed something I liked.
(Please do not think I am a fussy eater. My parents were always very glad that we both enthusiastically ate most things that were ever put on our plates. But it was in these more exotic settings outside the home, when I was getting a treat that I would quite literally re-treat into familiarity at every chance – for fear that if I tried something new – the gift would be wasted.)
And so to this day, when wanting to highlight my fear of the new, be it food or otherwise, my nearest and dearest repeat , in a very little voice, my consistent request on those warm summer days in country parks and at the seaside, “Can I have a choc ice please?"

And so it is with no small measure of delight and even a little pride, that I can say that in Kirsty's flat in Edinburgh, there featured three acts of culinary bravery. At thirty one and three quarters I finally ate the following foods for the first time ever:

Trout. A whole one. With its head still attached.
Poached egg. (Served in a floury roll with bacon). Topped with:
HP sauce. (There was no Heinz ketchup so I went out on a daring limb.)

Yum. Yum. Yum.

Brother – you woulda been a little astonished. And I think just a little proud.