The steps were slippery and very craggy. Almost at the summit, I slipped on some mud and twisted my ankle ended up sitting on the ground, looking out over sunny Edinburgh, not sure how I was going to get back down. I could feel my ankle swelling in my shoe.
It was February, cold and dark, and the only person I knew was my brother’s flatmate who was away with friends that evening. Not wanting to spend the first night alone in Wulfric’s small, dingy and sparsely furnished room, where the desk was covered in paperwork, and architectural models spilled down from the top of the wardrobe, I pulled on my winter coat and left the flat heading out into the city hoping that I would also find my way back.