When I was seven, I had a close encounter with a shark.
It was on my first-ever visit to an aquarium.
In as much as a seven-year-old can dine out on an experience – eg: regale their small and equally unworldly friends over milk-based drinks in the school yard – I lived off it for months, if not years.
“And there’s this HUGE tank, and a shark just came up and swam PAST MY FACE! It was THIS FAR from my eyes!” It completely overwhelmed me. I embellished the tale, with stories of me, just casually chatting to my brother when A SHARK SWAM PAST MY FACE.
Childhood outings still loom large in adult memory. Maybe it was the first time you saw an actual Mummy at a museum, and realised that was what they did with DEAD PEOPLE. Maybe you spent an inordinate amount of time waiting for the crocodile to blink to show you that yes, he was REAL, not plastic. Maybe you saw a piece of art that you have never forgotten.