Looking back at my teenage self, I remember her being a force of nature, quite headstrong, quite difficult, very fun loving.
I loved my friends more than life itself. For the purpose of writing my book, I dug out my old diary. I wrote a lot about wanting to travel, wanting to be in the world, wanting to be what I considered free. Free from my parents, free from school – I was certainly outwardly, hungry for more. And I was quite ‘rules are made to be broken’. I was hoping for a very big life, a fun life, a full life.
I went to boarding school in Scotland.
I loved making art, but because I got good grades in other subjects I was encouraged to do law. When I first was injured, when I first came out of intensive care and was rehabilitating, I was hellbent on trying to get into a really, really good university. I was like, fuck it, life is short, I’m just gonna aim for the sky. And for some reason, for about three weeks, I decided I was going to go to fucking Oxbridge. Don’t ask me where that idea came from. I have wondered since what would have happened if I hadn’t had my accident – maybe I would
