As a boy I believed so implicitly in the Loch Ness monster that I made my dad drive us all the way from Southampton to Scotland to see it. The night before, in a dream, I saw its shape snaking through the marshes at the lake’s edge. I was terrified.
The next day the great grey waters remained unbroken by a serpentine neck, but that did nothing to dispel my belief. I filled an empty bottle with Loch Ness water, took it home to put in the cupboard under the stairs, and waited for tiny plesiosaurs to hatch out.
